Heaven from Hell
by glassf1re
Summary: Harry loses he and Draco's child in the war and they each deal with that in very different ways. Ultimately Lucius and Ron are left to pick up the pieces. HPDM, MPREG.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So welcome to the rewrite! For anyone who read the original, these first few chapters are set before the original version began and I'm told by a few reliable sources that they definitely fill a void! I will leave the original up under my old login for a fair wee while just in case anyone has a particular attachment to it and wants to save a copy. Anyone who feels more comfortable talking to me there is of course welcome to do so.

For those who didn't read the original I'd advise against looking for it because some details will be changing and it'll just get confusing - for that reason I'm deliberately omitting directions.

**Disclaimer:** First of all, I don't own the characters or any of the canon details, those are the wonderful Ms Rowling's. Secondly, sorry Ms Rowling for corrupting your boys in this way.

**Pairings:** HPDM

**Warnings:** Slash, obviously. Swearing, sex, etc etc. Rated for a bloody good reason - do not read this if you are under the age of consent in your country. In later chapters the story will feature m-preg and a subsequent miscarriage which may be distressful to some readers (I know from my point of view that it was distressful to write).

**Beta:** The wonderful, magical, incendiary Aima D. Duragon.

**Special Thanks To: **Consulting Shippers and Lovefremione

* * *

It wasn't supposed to happen. The universe had clearly dropped the ball at some point or another: sneezed while totting up its sums, or nipped out back for a cigarette when it thought no one would notice. And to be fair, almost no one did.

Wizards often laughed - and not always fondly - at those daft muggles who'd happily witness a parade of hippogriffs running down a busy metropolitan street and chalk it up to one-too-many martinis, but the truth was, wizards were just as bad. Most wizards would quietly bear witness to just about anything foretold in a prophecy - from a horrific disaster to the ruin of a young man in his prime - and chalk it up to fate.

These days, Draco would often look at Harry and think_: 'Merlin's sparkly fishnets, that man needs to lighten up...'_ Because if Draco could find a way to see past the doom and gloom of the war then surely anyone could. He was beginning to realise that Harry and his merry band of minions weren't nearly as, well, _merry_ as they'd made out. With the possible exception of Ron, who it seemed could maintain a bright outlook in nearly any situation provided his belly was full.

The first, and arguably most important, thing Draco had unearthed upon escaping the shackles of his father was a decent sense of humour. If nothing else, it kept him sane throughout the oppressive scrutiny of his first few months on the right side of the war effort. Everyone here had a rather morbid fascination with duty, and Harry was the worst for it. It wasn't that Draco didn't see their reasoning or underestimated the danger of their situation - he knew perfectly well how important it was to put Voldemort in the ground once and for all - but every time someone uttered that quintessentially British phrase: _'There __is__ a __war__ on you know__,__'_ he felt like he was on the verge of cracking up.

He was alive! He was free! He wanted to run through the castle caterwauling it at the top of his lungs. His whole future was out there for the taking, and even if that future was short, it was still his to live. With a bit of luck and, of course, a bit of work, who knew? Once the war was behind them he could make a little money and settle down, find a wife, have a few kids… wrangle himself one of those big furry mountain dogs that might as well be a bear but with longer ears... It seemed to Draco that these people, who trudged through their days of strategy meetings and walked defiantly into battle, had forgotten to appreciate the very thing they were so afraid to lose.

And so the day that Draco finally managed to get a sodding smile out of Harry, he really didn't expect much else.

He definitely didn't expect for Harry to kiss him like he was drowning from the inside out. Nor did he expect to find Harry - this cold, shuttered, excuse for a man - ablaze all around him, tangled in his sheets, whispering nervous secrets in his ear. Frankly it was absurd, but there he was, being pulled into the firestorm like oxygen, lying flat on his back and naked as the day he was born...

* * *

It all started in a room filled with every assortment of junk imaginable: Socks, swords, skeletons, and much more besides. Harry surveyed the articles around him without any real interest, scuffing his shoes idly as he paced.

"I thought you said this was important, Malfoy."

"It is," Draco called back from behind a pile of broken furniture.

"Well can you get to it at some point in the next millennium? I have a mountain of research to get through."

Draco swung back into view, "It's always work, work, work, with you isn't it, Potter? Even the boy wonder needs a break every once and a while you know..." He said, snatching up a purple feather boa and throwing it around Harry's neck.

"Yeah? Tell you what, you do my job for a day and let me know how it goes," Harry retorted, pulling off the boa and throwing it at a pile of books.

"Oh cheer up will you, the wet blanket routine's getting old." Draco picked up a mannequin and began to dance it around the room.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?"

"Trying to get you to crack a smile of course. Merlin you're hard work, Potter!"

"What's up with you today, Malfoy, you're practically...giddy? It's weird. Stop it."

"Hey! How do you know I've not always been like this, and you've just been too thick-skulled to notice?"

"Well, have you?"

"Nah, I really was that much of an arse. I guess being around a miserable git like you day in-day out does good things for my disposition. One of us needs to have a sense of humour..."

"I don't have time for a sense of humour, Malfoy.

"Well that's a bit depressing. Look on the bright side for once will you, it's your birthday after all...and, as of today, we're one step closer to winning the war."

"Oh? How'd you figure?"

Draco dropped the mannequin and turned to face Harry.

"Ah! Well..." he paused for dramatic effect, "I might just have a present for you."

With that, he disappeared off behind a pile of battered looking armchairs.

"Is it Voldemort's head on a pike?"

"Nuh-uh, much better than that."

Harry spun around as Draco sprung out again from behind him, dressed in a large fur coat, an acid green wig, oversized sunglasses and a pirate's hat.

"You look ridiculous!"

"Coming from you, scarface?"

Draco struck a comical pose, and Harry began to laugh. The laughter grew and grew and became interspersed with wheezing breaths as he bent double, clasping his stomach. Draco's face was painted with victory by the time he threw off the mismatched items.

"Oh, thank you," Harry gasped.

"What for?"

"Wasn't that my present?"

Draco surveyed him with a look of confusion for a moment. "Ah, the gift of laughter...if only I'd known you were that easy to please, Potter..."

"So, what is it then?"

"Close your eyes," Draco ordered, disappearing into the folds of the room once more.

"Are you going to hex me?"

"Potter, honestly! Do as you're told!"

"Fine!" Harry huffed like he was half his age.

Draco appeared again, and held a battered looking tiara out to his Harry. "You can look now."

"Um," Harry looked at it awkwardly, "It's really not my style Malfoy..."

"Oh no? Look closer."

Something dawned on Harry's face "Is this- It can't be- Is it?"

"Yup."

"I can't believe this, you- I mean, how?" Harry eventually spluttered, taking Ravenclaw's diadem with shaky fingers.

Draco stepped back and gave a sweeping bow, "I live to serve." Straightening up, satisfied, he added, "Night then."

He made to leave, but Harry grabbed his arm and stared at him with an unreadable expression. It made Draco decidedly uncomfortable, he swallowed and prepared to break the dizzy silence but Harry sensed it coming and pulled him into a reckless kiss before either of them could put a stop to it.

Draco took a step back, partly to break their connection but mostly just to get his bearings. "What was that for?"

Harry's eyes cut into him, still riding on the euphoria of it all, "You're amazing, you know that?"

Draco studied him, "Did someone slip you something at lunch? From a little shimmery bottle? Probably smelt like sweaty quidditch gear and chocolate frogs?"

Harry finally faltered, "You're going to be a dick about this aren't you?"

"I'm not, I just... I'm not connecting the dots here. Does everyone who finds a horcrux get a snog? Is it some kind of reward system? Or... are you just so rarely in a good mood that it gets you randy enough to jump on the nearest thing with a pulse?" Draco leaned forward. "Are you gay? Am I hot to gay guys?"

Harry clenched his fists. "You kissed me back," he pointed out through his teeth.

Draco pursed his lips and rubbed his face, "Yeah, I'm aware of that, I was there too."

Harry inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. "So?" he demanded.

Draco studied him a while longer. "Come here," he said eventually, in the softest voice Harry had ever heard him use.

Harry closed the gap between them. Draco reached out and put his hands either side of Harry's neck, testing out how it felt. He brought their lips together slowly, his eyes wide open as Harry's fell shut. The blood flooding to his cock told him enough - for the time being at least, and he wasn't in the habit of thinking much further ahead.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," he breathed when it was over.

* * *

That night Draco recounted the whole thing to himself precisely sixty-seven times, fascinated by Harry's actions – not that that was anything new, he couldn't remember a time when Harry hadn't fascinated him, even if he was a frequently morbid bastard - but moreso by his own _reaction_. He was so wrapped up in it all that he nearly missed the knock at his door.

Harry chewed on his lip and scattered his eyes in every direction, "Can I come in?"

Draco started to reply _'__Sure,__'_but Harry's hands were on him the second he opened his mouth. Draco felt like his brain was folding in on itself but he couldn't bring himself to give a flying fuck. Harry's tongue was about the only thing he could process and he was quite comfortable with that.

By the time he was able to piece together the rest of what had been going on, his clothes were somewhere else and his big regal bed was in chaos around them. He whistled and briefly let his head fall back against the pillows.

Harry's fingers threaded into the hair at the nape of his neck, and Draco knew that at any moment those fingers might start to wander, and could wander wherever they wanted - a notion he found both terrifying and euphoric.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

Draco brought a hand to Harry's face and brushed his thumb over his cheek. "You used to smile like that all the time. I never realised I could bring it back," he said, compelled into pressing his lips to the pulse point in Harry's neck.

Harry drew in a shaky breath; Draco moaned something incomprehensible against his skin and pulled back. He shuffled himself down so that he was sitting on Harry's thighs and pulled him up into a sitting position, his eyes wide and bright.

"We're alive, Harry!" he said, shaking him slightly, "We could jump off the astronomy tower and sprout wings! We could take on an army of rabid goblins! We could do anything!" He placed a hand over Harry's heart and stared at it for a moment. "Don't you feel that?"

"Yeah," Harry ducked his head.

"Come on now, Harry," Draco took his chin in the crook of his finger. "Once more with feeling?"

Harry's cheeks flushed pink; he laughed and tried to avert his eyes, "Yes, we're alive!"

Draco grinned and kissed him.

"You're a certifiable nut job by the way, just so you know."

"Tell you what, I'll have the men with the little white coats come and get me in the morning."

Harry laughed again and it built and bubbled out from the depths of his stomach until he was clutching Draco and struggling to breathe.

"Alright there?"

"This is so bizarre."

"It is rather," Draco agreed. "Here I am stark bollock naked and you're still fully clothed? I sense foul play afoot."

"You planning on doing something about it?"

Draco smirked and made to grab the front of Harry's t-shirt but Harry caught his wrist before he could.

"This _is_ just between us, right?"

"It's no one else's business, Harry."

Harry's shoulders dropped. His fingers played on Draco's chest as he looked up into his eyes.

"Out of interest, what would you have done if I'd said: _'__No__, Harry, I've got Creevey hidden in the wash basket - the photos will be on the front page of the Prophet in the morning'_."

"Obliviated you," Harry replied as though it were obvious, "And him. Though I doubt Creevey would have the balls to be anywhere near your wash basket."

Draco tried to decide how insulted he was. Eventually he just shrugged, "Fair enough." He kissed Harry's temple and touched their fingers together. "Don't though, I think I want to remember you like this."

Harry chewed his lip; he dropped his gaze into his lap only to be startled by the obscene sight of Draco's cock sitting there, eager and unabashed. He jerked his eyes away and almost instantly scolded himself for it: he'd wanted this, he'd made it happen, there was no use being prudish about it now.

The trouble was, he had no idea what to _do_ with it. He wanted to curl his fingers around it and find out if it felt different to his own. It looked different anyway. But once he touched it he was starting something new, and what if he couldn't finish it? What if what he liked wasn't what Draco liked? What if-

"Come on then: off," Draco ordered him, pulling Harry's t-shirt up and over his head. "Down," he added pressing against Harry's chest.

"What am I, a bloody cocker spaniel?"

"Well you do bear a striking resemblance."

Harry hit him with a pillow. "Arse."

"You do realise I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing, Harry," Draco grimaced and brushed his hair away from his face with a sweaty palm.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at him but quickly lost his nerve and picked at his fingernails instead. "I don't mind if you don't."

"Look, I really, really hope I'm not about to regret asking this... because, well this is _hot_... and you know I'm all about the new experiences these days-"

"I didn't know that."

"That's because your nose is always in either a book or a battle drill," Draco tilted his head and pointed a finger at him. "But for the record, I am."

Draco paused to consider Harry for a moment. "For the first time in my life I can do whatever I want, and honestly, I don't even know what that is, but I know I have the freedom to figure it out, which is a damn sight more than I had in a house full of deatheaters and werewolves and my demented-" Draco's eyes flared and he stopped himself short. "Getting off track, my point is, I know why _I'm_ along for this ride, but what's going on with you?"

"Does something have to be going on with me?"

"No." He paused thoughtfully. "Mostly I'm just checking you're not having some sort of breakdown."

"How gentlemanly of you."

"Hey," Draco squinted his eyes in a parody of a frown and poked Harry's chest. "Don't get snarky with me Oh-Mighty-Exhaulted-Saviour-of-the-World-and-Magic-and-Decency-and-Tiny-Little-Baby-Penguins-Somewhere-in-Antarctica."

"What?" Harry guffawed.

"Shut up."

"It's my birthday today," Harry said offhandedly, picking at his fingernails again.

"Yes, we've covered that," Draco said slowly before adding with pride. "I even got you a present."

"That you did."

Draco leaned in close to whisper in Harry's ear; the tip of his cock rested against Harry's stomach and it reacted with a flutter. "Seeing as we're all alone - you know, apart from Creevey - you can feel free to admit it."

"Admit what?"

Draco sat himself back up. "That my present was the best."

"It was the only."

Draco scrunched his eyes and shook his head slightly. "Excuse me?"

Harry shrugged. "It's not a big deal, there's a lot going on. I mean, it's the full moon so Remus is out of the picture, and Ron asked if I wanted to do something - go out for drinks with him and Hermione maybe, but I didn't see the point…."

Draco slumped and folded his arms, his mouth became a troubled pout, "And they just… accepted that?"

"I don't have time for birthdays," Harry explained as if to a small child; Draco just about smacked him, "Birthdays are for other people, and I'm just not…"

"What? A person?" Draco made no attempt to hide his incredulity.

"I think this was a bad idea," Harry said. He tried to sit up but Draco, though still lost in his thoughts and staring off into space, pushed him back down.

"Let me up!"

Draco snapped his head around again. "I will, in a minute, but let's just get one thing straight first: You are _not_ a piece of bloody machinery with some kind of predefined shelf life Harry. Fuck!"

"I-"

"You're a human being: no more or less important than the rest of us mere mortals. You deserve birthdays and lazy Sunday mornings and awkward sexual encounters and to have your ass whooped at Quidditch every once and a while – by me if at all possible, but that's a whole separate issue - and, and..." he made a wild gesture, "The terror that is steamed cabbage! Along with countless other things that I can't think of right now."

"Are you quite done?"

Draco folded his arms over his chest. "I'm not sure."

"Oh screw it," Harry huffed as he wound a hand behind Draco's neck and dragged his lips down to meet his own.

"Stop!" Draco pushed him away. "A minute ago you said this was a bad idea."

Harry latched onto Draco's jaw line rather than respond. He rolled him onto his back again and moved his mouth to just behind his ear.

Draco started to panic for the first time that evening. "Wait, wait!" he beat his fits on Harry's shoulders. "What if you're right?"

"Why are we still talking about this?" Harry murmured against his skin.

Draco's throat constricted as Harry's lips trailed down over one of his nipples. "I spent a good chunk of my childhood looking for ways to hurt you, Harry. You can't just pretend none of those things happened."

"I've decided I'm over it."

"Is that why we've gone from civil conversation to full frontal nudity in the space of six hours?"

"Don't be a moron, Draco," Harry replied from somewhere near his belly button; Draco couldn't bear to look—he only knew because he could feel Harry's breath warming his skin.

"Hey!" Draco gently kicked his side with his bare foot. "I'm trying to look out for you, you dick."

Harry looked up at last. "You're sweet."

"I've been called a lot of things, Potter..."

Harry prowled back up his torso until they were eye for eye. He kissed Draco so softly it might have been a dream, "I've been over it since you showed up at the castle gates all those months ago and begged Dumbledore to let you in."

Draco's lungs hurt, stuck somewhere between relief and fear.

"What else?" Harry asked him, probing his eyes.

"I meant it when I said I hadn't done this before."

"You scared?" Harry whispered.

Draco knitted his brows together; he opened his mouth to speak but couldn't decide on an answer.

"I am a little," Harry admitted. "But I want this. Do you?"

Draco closed his eyes and exhaled. "Yes."

Harry pressed their foreheads together and their noses brushed ever so gently. He pulled at Draco's bottom lip with his teeth; their breath and tongues mingled together.

Draco's fingers sought out the waistband of Harry's trousers; they shook slightly as he worked at the buttons. Draco broke their kiss to yelp when Harry kicked the last of his clothing off his ankles and inadvertently struck him.

"Sorry," Harry said, "But hey, at least we're even on the clothes front now."

Draco looked down between them; he both saw and felt his cock twitch. Harry took his own in his hand and experimentally touched it to Draco's - once, then twice.

Draco's stomach muscles clamped together painfully and he let go of a nervous laugh, "What are you doing?"

"Playing?" Harry did his best to look coy in spite of the heart thudding up against his ribcage.

Draco's hand reached between them. He wrapped his fingers around both of them and stroked softly. His wrist was bent at an awkward angle, but before he could adjust it Harry batted it out of the way.

"Close your eyes," he whispered.

Draco felt the bed shift and then all of a sudden a wet tongue was running along the underside of his cock, a spasm of shock ran through Draco's whole body. "Fuck!"

"No good?"

"Don't be a tease."

"Who, me?"

Harry continued to explore with his mouth. It was wet and imprecise, but Draco watched in awe that someone else was doing this for him: the concept alone was enough to push his limits, the fact that Harry was that someone else had him fisting the sheets and fighting to conjure up foul images of Professor Slughorn doing inappropriate things with a potions vial.

Harry's jaw had started to ache quite badly after the first few minutes but he was determined to see it through. He took as much of Draco's cock in his mouth as could manage and began to move up and down the length of it; spit slipped from the corner of his mouth and trailed down over Draco's balls.

"Harry," Draco's plea sounded like one of pain.

Harry looked up, concerned. "Mmmm?" he questioned with his mouth still full.

Draco's mouth opened to speak as his hips bucked of their own accord. A stream of something hot and salty hit the back of Harry's throat so unexpectedly that he wasn't sure what to do with it. He swallowed on reflex but not before some had escaped. He lifted his mouth away carefully and wiped his chin with his wrist.

Draco's eyes were still screwed shut. Harry studied the way his fists clenched and unclenched; he was panting and sweating, and then he began to shiver. Harry pulled the blankets around both of them and nestled himself in the crook of Draco's shoulder, still watching, fascinated, unable to believe he'd caused it all.

"I'm sorry, I wanted," Draco swallowed, "To warn you, but..."

"Can I kiss you?"

Draco blinked his eyes open at last and gave him a confused look.

"I mean because," Harry struggled to find a polite way to rephrase: _'because my mouth is coated in your come' _but found he couldn't. Thankfully it seemed to dawn on Draco. "Is that gross?" Harry asked in the end.

Draco languidly stroked his fingers through the back of Harry's hair and pulled him closer; he kissed him with an open mouth and a wandering tongue. "I think it's kinda hot actually."

Harry smiled to himself and chewed his thumbnail as he sidled in closer, resting his head and settling his hand on Draco's ribs.

Draco felt Harry's still hard cock on his thigh. "Just give me a minute to..."

"Recover?"

"I was going to say breathe."

Harry listened to Draco's heartbeat wind down. "So... not completely crap then?"

He was met with silence.

"Draco?" Harry lifted his head "Draco are you asleep!?"

Draco opened one eye. "No, but your face was priceless."

Harry thumped him on the shoulder.

"Alright, alright," Draco laughed. He sat up and pulled his legs underneath him so that he was kneeling. "Come here," he patted the space in front of him.

Harry mourned the blankets that slid off him as he maneuvered himself.

Draco spun a circle with his forefinger. "Other way around."

"What are you..."

The start Harry gave made Draco curious and slightly relieved, "Not that."

"No?"

"Sorta tapped out at the moment Harry," Draco reassured him, "And I..."

"What?"

Draco tentatively put his hands around the back of Harry's neck. "I don't want to rush... whatever this is."

Harry drew Draco's arms away and turned himself around. He kneeled upright, mimicking Draco's own stance. Draco hung back, memorising the curves and shadows of his back, watching his toes curl and uncurl.

"Cold?" Draco asked as Harry began to shiver and wrapped his arms around himself.

"Just a little."

Draco lifted his wand from the bedside table and whispered a spell. Flecks of warm light appeared all around them.

"You'll have to show me how you did that sometime."

Draco brought himself forward so that his back was pressed to Harry's. He wound his arms across Harry's chest and rested his mouth on the join between his neck and shoulder.

Harry shivered again.

"Still cold? Or something else?"

"Something else."

Draco coasted his hand down over Harry's midriff and coiled his fingers around his cock; Harry's eyes rolled backwards with his head. Draco touched Harry as if he were touching himself. He imagined the sensations as if they were his own, and moaned with him, moved with him. He felt his own spent cock tingle futilely against the sweat slicked skin of Harry's back and grasped at Harry's chest with his free hand. He would be so close now, so close.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are like this, Harry?"

Harry tensed suddenly; he bit down hard on his lip as he came in streams all over the silk bedspread that decorated the end of Draco's bed. Draco held him as he shook and lay them both down on their sides. He pulled the blankets over them and shook the bedspread onto the floor with his foot. They fell asleep as Draco whispered nonsensical things into Harry's ear, the lights still flickering above them.

* * *

Harry awoke several hours later and shifted carefully onto his back so as not to disturb the arms around him.

"Draco?" he whispered.

"Mmmm?"

"Thank you." It sounded flat to Harry, those two simple words didn't seem enough.

"Any time," Draco sighed through a yawn.

The sentiment made Harry uneasy, and he wasn't ready to think about why yet; it was still dark, the night was still his own.

"I keep having this dream," he said. "It started a few months ago."

"Yeah?" Draco was slowly waking but his eyes were still shut.

"The war's over, or, I dunno, maybe there was never a war to begin with."

Draco's eyes fluttered open. "Sounds like a good dream."

"You're there."

"I am?"

"Yeah," Harry felt a sad tug at his heart.

"What else?" Draco asked.

Harry shook his head.

"Please tell me."

Harry just shook his head again.

Draco looked down at his hands, "Do I do something to hurt you?" he asked quietly.

"Why are you so scared of that?"

"Because," Draco creased his brow, "I wouldn't want to."

"We're lying like this," Harry said eventually. "And you're looking at me the way you're looking at me now."

"How am I looking at you now?"

"Like...I don't know...the way other people look at people who aren't me. No hatred, no grand expectations, just...it's hard to explain."

"Harry," Draco brushed his eyebrow with his thumb, "I'm looking at you like someone who thinks there's more to you than that fucking scar, is that what you mean?"

Harry looked away. "I guess."

"So, this isn't some spur of the moment _'It's my birthday and I'll misbehave if I damn well want to'_ lapse in sanity after all then?"

"Oh it is," Harry smiled almost apologetically, "But..." he gnawed his lip, "There's a reason I'm having it with you."

Draco wasn't prepared for the force of disappointment he felt on hearing this revelation but he did his best not to show it. "Well don't I feel special," he tried to joke.

"Make love to me."

It was spoken so softly that Draco nearly missed it.

"What?"

"Make love to me," Harry repeated through his fingers.

Draco's jaw worked around several disjointed responses. "That's a pretty big line to cross, Harry," he said in the end.

"We've crossed a fair few already."

"I'm not going anywhere, so why are you in such a hurry?"

Harry rubbed his face with both hands. "Look, this can't happen again."

"Do you turn into a warty toad at first light or something?"

"Not far off."

Draco scoffed bitterly.

"Look, I can't afford to be a normal person. I know you think that's a crock of shit but it's true and I don't need another lecture about it."

Draco's scowl scorched holes in the ceiling.

"People will _die_, Draco."

"People will die if you let yourself be happy? Seriously? Are you hearing yourself?"

Harry ground his back teeth together. Draco looked over at him and deflated at the misery he saw, such a contrast from the carefree glow he'd given off before.

He rolled himself gingerly on top of Harry, found his hands, and kissed him slowly. "You can't fit a whole life's worth of...life into one night. It doesn't work like that."

"Why shouldn't I try?"

Draco sighed, defeated. "You'll never get it back."

"I don't want it back," Harry said. "I want you," he added in a murmur.

Draco hung his head and let the musk of Harry's skin overtake his better judgment.

"Can we stay this way? Does that- is it more uncomfortable for you this way?"

"I..." Harry pulled his shoulders up around his ears and made a vague gesture with his hands.

"Can we try?" Draco swallowed, "I want to see you."

At first, all Harry could see were red blotches of pain occurring in time with the nervous thump of his heart. Somehow, he hadn't imagined it could hurt so much; part of him wanted to take Draco up on his suggestion that they stop. His ears started to buzz and the dull sound crowded out his ability to breathe and weighed on his arms. When the world of sound came back Draco took his cue to move his hips in time with his hand on Harry's cock.

"This... feels..."

Draco couldn't manage more than a grunt, they'd found a gentle rhythm and he fought to hold onto it for as long as possible but once it collapsed out from under him there was nothing left but frantic need and Harry. Both of them were blind and building towards the end and it came with a rush of sparks and wet heat.

* * *

"Harry! The sun's not even up yet!"

"It's getting that way though," Harry replied as he pulled on his socks.

"Sadist," Draco grumbled.

Harry scooped up his jeans and pulled them on, standing to fasten them. "I can't risk anyone seeing me."

"Harry Potter's dirty little secret, my father would be so proud."

"Draco!" Harry huffed and swung around only to find that Draco was wearing an amused smirk and dancing his fingers over the sheets. "Sorry, I thought you were being-"

"Difficult?"

Harry turned his attention back to getting dressed; he found his t-shirt halfway across the room. As he pulled it on, he was struck by the image of how it had come off and felt another excited twinge in his gut.

Harry stilled, "Any regrets?"

"Life's too short, Harry. Hey, come here."

"Don't."

"Dear Merlin you have a suspicious mind, Potter," Draco extricated himself from the bed, holding the sheet around him at the neck and using his free hand to take up his wand; he looked something like a muggle parodying a wizard. He stepped toward Harry, gracefully ensuring he remained covered. He touched his wand to Harry's t-shirt and muttered something; it changed from blue to red.

"Can't have you getting caught sneaking back to bed in yesterday's clothes now can we?"

He ran his wand over the line of Harry's jaw and the stubble there disappeared, he touched it to the hollow of Harry's throat and a tinkling sensation spread outwards, removing the sticky traces of sweat and saliva and Harry dared not think what else.

"There, all gone. Never happened," Draco purred.

Harry shoved him back, "What's your game?"

"Well I'm rather fond of gobstones..."

"How about a little less sarcasm and a little more honesty. I know you disagree with this, you were quite vocal about it last night."

Draco thought about making another quip but decided it wouldn't help anything. "I wasn't trying to be sarcastic, I just didn't think you really had the time or inclination for a 'cards on the table' conversation right now. Aren't you supposed to be skulking your way across the castle?"

Harry's eyes flicked to the door, he clenched and unclenched his fingers. "Well let's have them then, your cards," he demanded with an agitated gesture.

Draco raised his eyebrows until Harry crossed his arms and looked down at his feet.

"I never imagined a person could feel the way I felt last night," he started carefully, "And...I really want to feel that way again. And just so we're clear, I'm not talking about the sex, mind blowing as it was," Draco saw Harry raise his eyes from the floor. "I'm talking about being with you. You're the one who's amazing, Harry. You can deny it all you want but I've seen it up close. And yes, I think you're an idiot for denying yourself the things that make you happy. And yes, I think you're an egotistical twat for thinking that it's solely your responsibility to bring down that lunatic, but I said all this to you last night and you're still leaving now, just like you said you would," Draco shrugged, "I knew what I was getting into."

"Yeah, you did," Harry said quietly.

"So what's the point in talking about it?"

Harry bit his lips together in a small smile. "Not much," he turned to leave.

"Hey, Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"If you want my honesty I'll make sure you always have it, but don't expect to always like what you hear, okay?"

Harry nodded without making eye contact and escaped into the empty corridors of the castle.

* * *

**A/N:** So, there it is :) Phew! Hope you liked it!

This is hereby dedicated to the wonderful Consulting Shippers! My ever faithful muse who has stuck with me, inspired me, and pestered me to write this for literally years at this point! Dear god, thank you! You'll never know how much it's meant :)

Massive gratitude also to my Beta, the marvelously talented Aima D. Duragon, and my chief reviewer and all round source of sparklyness Lovefremione.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** First of all, I don't own the characters or any of the canon details, those are the wonderful Ms Rowling's. Secondly, sorry Ms Rowling for corrupting your boys in this way.

**Pairings:** HPDM

**Warnings:** Slash, obviously. Swearing, sex, etc etc. Rated for a bloody good reason - do not read this if you are under the age of consent in your country. In later chapters the story will feature m-preg and a subsequent miscarriage which may be distressful to some readers (I know from my point of view that it was distressful to write).

**Beta:** Aima D. Duragon.

* * *

It had taken Harry less than forty-eight hours to get Draco out of the country after that night.

Draco heard about his_ incredibly important new mission _for the first time in front of the whole Order, somewhere between a report about veritaserum supplies and another about dealtheater infiltration in the Ministry. He hadn't even flinched. Harry had purposely avoided his eyes for most of the past two days, every time they'd shared the same room Draco had practically been able to smell the guilt sweating off of him - frankly the man was about as transparent as unicorn piss, so a stunt like this had been inevitable.

Draco wasn't angry so much as disappointed, but he wasn't in the mood to share that - _'Let the stupid prat stew,'_ he thought.

So he'd said 'Fine' and diligently taken up his quill to scratch down some notes. Actually, Dumbledore had been pleasantly surprised by his cooperation, though he might not have been if he'd realised that the reason Draco was writing his notes in French was to disguise the large number colourful expletives.

His job was track down an extremely insular society of beings known as "firefeet" and convince them to join the war. Legend had it that they could command the elements and were powerful enough to have no need for wandcraft. They got their name from a unique ability to raise fire from the soles of their feet – not a particularly inventive title, granted, but it got the point across.

Really it was all quite sensible, but with one noticeable snag: they'd been coaxed into the last wizarding war only to suffer catastrophic losses, and weren't likely to make the same mistake again. No one in the Order doubted Draco's silver tongue – the man could sell feathers to a phoenix, it was probably a Malfoy thing and thank fuck he was working for them now – but none of them envied him either.

The meeting rolled to a close, Harry still couldn't meet his eyes, he made and awkward, insufficient little nod and left. Draco set off for the European mainland an hour later, brushing off Molly's fussing, Ron's brisk man-hug, and Dumbledore's _generous _assertions that he needn't leave until the morning.

* * *

Months passed and Harry suffered them all. Draco sent progress updates twice a week - Tuesdays and Fridays like clockwork - but there was never anything personal in them, it was all very clinical. Harry was very much aware that he was in the dog house.

Hermione chewed on a spoonful of mashed potatoes as she studied him, ready to catch his expression with her next words:

"So when's Draco due back again? Tomorrow is it?"

Harry's concentration was elsewhere or he would have picked up on what a redundant question this was - Snape had announced as much to the whole order not half an hour ago.

"I suppose so…" he said with a deliberate shrug - the kind that should have looked casual but fell short of the mark.

Hermione pursed her lips around another mouthful of potato.

* * *

The following day she watched from her window as Draco strolled up to the castle from the Hogsmeade gate, a bag slung over one shoulder and his face tilted to the white December sun. He might have grown in his months away, he certainly didn't look the worse for it.

He waved easily when he came close enough to spy her, stumbling directly into Remus as he did. She withdrew her own waving hand as Draco and Remus embraced, straining to eavesdrop from two stories up.

When Draco finally planted both feet in the entrance hall he dropped his belongings and sucked in as much of the air as he could muster.

"Good to be home?" Remus laughed.

"I wouldn't go that far, but… good to be back, definitely good to be back."

Remus clapped him on the shoulder and guided him through the castle.

"Now young Draco, is it just me or are you looking for something? Because I can't help feeling like I don't have your undivided attention?"

Draco rolled his eyes, "Well, is it too much to hope that one's dispatcher be present when one returns from several months of traipsing across Europe with nothing but his wits and a pretty face? Chased by fire-wielding centaurs I was… ravaged by rabid garden gnomes… verbally assaulted by flying carpet salesmen…"

"Did any of that actually happen?"

"Well, no… but I did get a nasty paper cut in Prague."

"I'm sure it was awful for you."

"It was actually. I'm considering therapy."

As they neared the Order's meeting chamber though, Draco's steps faltered. Remus, being a perceptive old soul, pulled him into a headlock and ruffled his hair, "Relax."

Draco found that the whole thing – his quest, his failure - was suddenly very real, "I really wish..."

"Hey…" Remus soothed. "You did your best, what more can Dumbledore ask of you?"

Draco's gaze flitted away, he honestly couldn't give two shits about Dumbledore's reaction. Harry's on the other hand...

Remus arched a big bushy caterpillar of an eyebrow. "Come on you," he laughed and tugged him forward by his collar.

Draco opted to squash the whole thing back into its box for a few moments longer, while he had the chance.

"Ger'off you big hairy manhandler!" he grinned, swatting Remus away.

They stumbled into the Order's meeting chamber clutching their stomachs and each other's shoulders, gasping for breath; Professor McGonagall sobered them with a sharp cough.

"Fine timing as ever, Draco, but perhaps a little decorum, hmm? Honestly, Remus, you should know better."

Draco bowed his head and took his seat, winking at Remus as he did. He looked to his right and the sight of Harry sitting there - studiously ignoring him - ripped his convenient little box wide open again. He'd never wanted anything more than to tuck tail and run. Instead he grabbed a donut from the towering pile in front of him – and since when was _that_ allowed by the way? He briefly wondered if Dumbledore was going soft - and stuffed it into his mouth.

The meeting wasn't half as dull as they normally were: Snape had made a breakthrough at the Ministry and Tonks had discovered a nifty new counter-jinx that turned the subject's arms into flobberworms. A whole ethical debate erupted about whether it was right to bring innocent flobberworms into the heat of battle where they might come under further fire. Ordinarily this would have provided Draco with weeks of entertainment but he was lost in his own head.

"Draco?" Someone called. "DRACO?"

"Hmm? What?"

Dumbledore peered over his half-moon spectacles, "The Firefeet. Your last letter indicated that your mission had been unsuccessful?"

"Elementals," Draco said offhand, "They hate being called Firefeet. They reckon it's _'__an offensive term coined by bastard wizards to encapsulate and belittle them as a race.__'"_

"Yes, yes, of course - but they refuse to join the fight, correct?"

Draco sat up straight and steepled his fingers in mimicry of Dumbledore's own for a brief moment before considering that Harry would probably think it childish. "Correct."

An Auror Draco had never seen before slammed his fist into the table, "How can they just sit about on their arses and watch us get slaughtered!"

"Well to be fair they're not," Draco clarified. "They had no idea about the war until I told them, and now that they know... well, they don't really see that it's any of their business."

"How could they _not_ know!?"

Draco just shrugged. "They've got better things to be doing with their time than keeping tabs on us I suppose."

"You sound like you sympathise."

"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded, "I hope we can be certain that you put our case forward to the best of your abilities, Draco?"

Draco pulled himself up straighter, something in Dumbledore's words fed sparks to his temper. "Oh for Merlin's sake! What kind of question is that?" he snapped, wondering with a queasy stomach if Harry thought that too.

Dumbledore waited for an answer all the same.

"Of course I did. Look, I debated, I pleaded, I offered them every bribe it was in my power to offer and a few that really weren't. Short of clubbing them over the head with a comatose barn owl I'm not sure what else you expected me to do."

Tonks rubbed her temples, "I just don't understand how they can stand by now that they know what's going on."

"It might have something to do with ninety percent of their population being wiped out in the last wizarding war… you know, the one where the Ministry used them as glorified cannon fodder…" Snape replied before Draco had the chance.

Harry's eyes had glazed over as the argument jumped on around him; his fingers absently twirled the end of Draco's quill, causing it to gradually change colour: grey to violet to maroon. Draco took heart in that, at least until Harry snatched his hand away like a guilty schoolboy.

"Do you think there's something happening there?" Hermione whispered to Ron.

"Hmmm?" Ron licked some stray icing sugar from his fingers. "Oh," Ron squinted over at them. "Let's hope so. Boy's in need of a good shag."

"Ron!" she smacked him.

"What?"

* * *

Harry caught Draco's arm as everyone began to file out of the room, "Can we talk?"

"Sure," Draco lingered.

"Not here."

Back in Draco's room though, safe from prying eyes, Harry lost his nerve. Draco eventually got fed up of sitting in silence and started to methodically unpack his suitcase instead, ignoring the eyes trained on his back. He smoothed out his shirts and smiled as he set the greatest trophy from his trip on his dresser, inwardly urging Harry to ask about it.

"What's that?"

"I could tell you but then I'd have to kill you," Draco joked, hoping to break the tension.

"Oh," Harry breathed, defeated.

Draco sucked patience in through his nose and slammed home the drawer he'd just refilled. He lifted his trophy - a tiny blue potions bottle - up to Harry's gaze.

"It's for Remus. I don't know if it'll work, I mean, I didn't think it could be done, but Branko swears…"

"Branko?"

Draco coloured with guilt, "One of the Elementals."

"So you did get somewhere with them then?"

Draco sighed and sat himself down on the cool flagstones, looking up at Harry from under a mess of blond hair. "I didn't find them you know, not really. Their elders came and found me, mostly to send me packing back home with my tail between my legs I think. But… I guess they wanted to know what they were dealing with, and somehow I ended up agreeing to let them rummage around in…."

"Your sock drawer?"

Draco addressed his lap and the sweaty palms that lay there. "In my heart."

Harry looked at him sideways, "Please tell me you're talking figuratively..."

"No... They sort of, uh..." Draco stretched out his fingers and reached them forward with a twisting motion.

"What the fuck, Draco!"

Draco winced.

"You reckless twat!"

"I didn't want to let you down," Draco mumbled, a little scrunched up part of him relaxed though – in spite of the bollocking he knew he was about to get, at least Harry knew he'd taken the thing seriously.

Harry rubbed his face with both hands and groaned, "I never should have sent you."

"Hey," Draco dared to give him a slight shove, "Thanks for the vote of confidence!"

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Harry said darkly.

Draco brought his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around his shins. "I'm fine though. They didn't mean me any harm, they just wanted to know if they could trust me."

"You couldn't _know_ that though."

"I did, I mean, something told me to believe them."

"Ever think that might have been part of their plan? They could have dosed you with some spell or potion or-"

"Harry!" Draco held up his hand. "There's nothing wrong with me. And maybe it _was_ reckless, but it was also worth it."

Harry didn't look convinced _at all_, but he did have 'frustrated and betrayed' down to a fine art.

"They're not bad people you know," Draco tried again, "They just… hate wizards."

"Case and point," Harry ground out.

Draco's shoulders drooped and he fell silent.

Harry huffed, kicked off his shoes, and made the bed his own, "So what happened?"

"I have a pure heart apparently, who knew?" Draco laughed.

Harry said nothing, the look he gave Draco was loaded enough to shut him up though – it said _'__I did you fucking prat__' _and _'__you__'__re one step away from me throttling you__'_ all at once.

Draco picked at his shoelaces for a while, "How much convincing did it take to get Dumbledore to agree to send me?"

"Not much," Harry chewed on his tongue, "Your track record helped. Though, I think _he_ thinks there's something going on between us."

"In other words he was hoping I'd fall down some really deep well on my travels and stay there."

"Why are you always so cynical of him?"

"I have eyes and ears."

"He trusts my judgment is all," Harry replied defensively. "I knew if anyone could do it, you could," he added in a softer voice.

Draco pursed his lips, "Harry, that's all very sweet and everything, but its bullshit."

"Excuse you?"

"Hey, I said I'd always be honest with you. Well here's my dose for the day:" Draco paused for a breath, committing himself, "You sent me away because you didn't trust me not to try something after that night, that or you didn't trust yourself not to. Either way its crap, you said it was a onetime thing and I heard you, you didn't have to put half a continent between us."

Harry sat up straighter, "You're not being fair."

Draco arched an eyebrow and folded his arms, when Harry didn't respond he sullenly lifted himself back over to his suitcase.

"Are you angry with me?" Harry finally asked the question that had plagued him all afternoon.

"No, I'm not. I just wish this atmosphere between us… wasn't. But I can't fix that, can I?" Draco said despondently, "So just… ask what you will, point me where you want me, and I'll make do."

"I don't want you to _'__make do__'_! Fuck!"

"Calm down-"

"I don't bloody want to calm down! I want us to be_ us_ again!"

"So quit treating me like a blast ended skrewt then."

"Fine!"

"Good," Draco blew the dust off his good dress shoes and lined them up precisely beside the dresser, "Give'us a shag will you."

"What!?"

"Oh Merlin your face!"

"You're not funny!"

"I'll have you know I'm entirely hysterical."

Harry threw the nearest thing he could, which just so happened to be his wand: It clattered off the wall and hissed out red sparks.

"That's right Harry, you tell the bad wall what you think of it."

"Oi, watch it you git."

"Oh, _I'm_ the git? You send me half way around the world and you can't even be bothered to meet me at the gate when I get back?" Draco said with his tongue in his cheek and a lofty eyebrow.

Harry shifted his position a little and wrinkled his nose, "Bought you donuts though... which is worth way more points if you ask me..."

Draco snorted, "Well that explains that then," he said, casting his mind back to the meeting. "Did you really buy them or did you bake them yourself? Did you slave over a hot stove? Tell me there was a little white apron involved, oh please, that would be fucking fantastic!"

Harry growled and flopped back onto the bed. "Will you just finish your story already!"

"What st- oh, right, the potion thing. Well basically they decided I wasn't out to hex them all into oblivion, but that wizards in general were all still bastards. We talked, we argued - like I said, I didn't get anywhere with it. But they _did _tell me a bit about their people and their community. It's completely fascinating Harry! All those stories and legends we -" Draco paused to consider Harry apologetically for a moment, "Well, maybe just me - were told growing up, they're all true! And the way they talk about magic! It's just... Do you remember when we first came to Hogwarts?"

Harry smirked, "I remember you were a dick..."

"True, unfortunately," Draco blushed. "But do you remember how it _felt_? Like magic was this thing you were in awe of every day. Like it could do anything - all the mysteries of the universe just waiting there for you to figure them out?"

Harry couldn't help but be warmed by how exhilarated simple things like this could make Draco, but the feeling sat outside him somehow.

"You mean before the war, when it all became about curses and death?"

"Yeah..." Draco stalled, considering something Harry knew must be important. "They asked me if I wanted to stay... well, not stay, go back with them... to their village... to become one of them…"

A violent and possessive thing snapped through Harry, "And you said?"

"No, obviously."

"Good."

The word was out of Harry's mouth and slapped down like a piece of butcher's meat before he could stop it.

The corners of Draco's mouth twitched upwards, "Awwww, would you miss me then? Would you pine away after me like a-"

"Draco!"

Chastised, Draco hung his head, the smile was still there though - it was how he felt and he wasn't inclined to hide it.

"They really must have taken a liking to you... to offer you something like that..."

"It's my natural charm and grace - no one can resist for long."

Harry stubbornly ignored the barely concealed meaning in those words. "Do you regret it?"

Draco considered his answer carefully, "It would have been amazing... to be able to learn and live like that... But no, I don't. My life is here, the war is here, I want to help if I can. One day our world will shine again like theirs does. I want to be here to see it."

"So the potion?"

"Like I said, it's for Remus," Draco's smile widened.

"And," Harry motioned that he should get to the point.

"Apparently it'll cure him."

Harry blinked, "Wh- How?"

"Well I don't really understand the mechanics if I'm honest."

"Not how does it work, how did you bloody get it!?"

Draco shrugged, "Well, in the end, Branko, he said he wanted to give me something for my trouble… and I asked for this."

"But," Harry struggled, "Why?"

"What do you mean _'__Why?__'_"

"I just didn't realise you two were that close."

"We're close enough. He's never questioned my motives, which is more than I can say for most."

"So because of that you put his condition above the entire war effort?"

Draco recoiled, "I can't believe you're reacting like this…" he said slowly, "This is a man you look up to, Harry. He treats you like a son…"

"I know that! Look, don't get me wrong, he's my family, I love him. If I could take away this retched curse from him I would…"

"So what's your problem?"

"You could have asked for anything! You could have gotten them to join us!"

"Haven't you been listening? They weren't going to do that. I didn't want to have to give you that answer, but it's the only one I can."

"For a weapon then! Something strong enough to turn the tide of the war."

"They don't have weapons, at least not anything stronger than we already have, they're a peaceful people, Harry! But I knew they had this... and I wanted to show them that not all wizards are selfish, power-hungry sadists. They need to know that if they're ever to change their minds."

"But you said they wouldn't."

"I'm certain they won't, but what's the sense in slamming the door in their face? Besides… we're fighting a monster who'd think nothing of sacrificing the few for the many, doesn't that set off any alarms for you? If we win this war that way then _we__'__ve_ become the monsters, and then what's the point in any of it?"

"When did you get so morally superior?"

"Blame my mother."

Harry deflated with a heavy sigh - unwilling to get into a discussion about Narcissa that he was certain would end badly - and dug himself into the blankets.

* * *

"I don't know how to repay you…"

Draco shrugged off the gratitude, "I didn't do it for payment, I did it because it was the right thing."

Remus stared at him like he'd pulled off a filthy old cloak and stood on it for good measure.

"Still…"

"I don't suppose you could _not_ tell Dumbledore?"

"I think he'd figure it out sooner or later. I swear that man has eyes in the walls…" Remus gave a shaky laugh and glanced around them.

"He does, they're called portraits," Draco whispered conspiratorially. "Actually… there is something."

"Name it."

"Keep him alive."

"Who, Dumbledore?"

"Harry, you dolt."

Remus' face seemed to lose its pallor completely, "If I have anything to do with it he'll come out the other side of this, but I-"

"I know, you can't protect him every second of the day, neither can I. And I know it's a redundant thing to ask because you'd do it anyway, and you don't need another reason to… but I'm giving you one anyway."

"Just how close are you two?"

"We're friends."

"That's all?"

Draco screwed up his eyebrows and swirled his glass, "I had a lot of time to think while I was away, and I've decided that if Harry won't look after himself then I sure as hell will."

Remus squinted at him in the shallow evening light, "What do you mean?"

"I…"

Remus searched his face, "Come on, out with it.."

"I just have this horrible feeling that _he_ has no intention of coming out the other side of this."

Remus rolled his jaw, "I've been thinking the same thing."

Draco snorted, mostly to cover the twinge of pain that struck his chest, "Eejit, right?"

"That's one word for it. Did he say something specific to you?"

"Not in so many words. We… talked a little, a few days before I left."

"Talked?"

"Talked," Draco replied firmly, willing the flush creeping up his neck to stay off his face.

"Have you spoken about it since?"

Draco shook his head, "There's no point, it'd just push him further away." Draco shuddered slightly, "Every time I got a reply to one of those blasted status reports I was scanning through it first to make sure he hadn't run off and done something stupid and heroic."

"Is that why you sent so many?"

Draco laughed, "Yeah, probably."

"Wouldn't it have been easier just to write to him yourself?" Remus asked, incredulous.

"He wouldn't have appreciated that, believe me."

Remus studied him for a long time. "Can I ask a personal question?"

Draco braced his nerves, he knew what was coming "…I'm not sure," he answered of his own accord. "I think maybe I do. I'd appreciate it if you kept that to yourself though."

"How did you know what I was going to ask?"

"It's what I've been asking myself for the best part of three months."

Remus held his gaze, "We'll get him through this, both of us, I promise."

Draco bowed his head in thanks; they curled up in their respective armchairs and silently polished off the rest of Remus' firewhisky, neither needing to expand any further on their new agreement.

* * *

**A/N:** Reviews are like candy and unicorns all rolled into one :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** First of all, I don't own the characters or any of the canon details, those are the wonderful Ms Rowling's. Secondly, sorry Ms Rowling for corrupting your boys in this way.

**Pairings:** HPDM

**Warnings:** Slash, obviously. Swearing, sex, etc etc. Rated for a bloody good reason - do not read this if you are under the age of consent in your country. This story deals with miscarriage which may be distressful for some readers (I know from my point of view that it was distressful to write).

**Beta:** Aima D. Duragon.

* * *

"Dear fucking mercy, how do you stand these feckless meetings day in-day out? Don't you ever just get the urge to climb onto the table and start screaming? I mean, just to see what everyone would do?"

Harry laughed as Draco flounced onto his bed, and climbed up to sit cross-legged by his feet. He lay motionless long enough that Harry grew restless from watching him and began to flick his shins here and there.

"Hey! Quit it!"

"Sorry," Harry ducked his head.

"No, _I'm_ sorry. How rude of me," Draco gestured theatrically. "I clean forgot that you're in constant need of attention."

"Oi!"

"No, no need to deny it. You're the great and wondrous savior after all; us mere mortals were put here to satisfy your every need," Draco sighed. "I've long accepted my place in life."

"Prat!"

Draco shifted himself up onto his elbows, "Harry?"

"Mmm?"

"Where do you think we'll be ten years from now?"

Draco watched him closely. He saw the way his jaw clenched up, and the deep breath he took, and the way he forced the sharp swill of irritation away. He wondered if Harry had guessed he had taken to studying him like this – deliberately pushing this button and trying to provoke a reaction. Not too often, not so as to drive him off, just enough to get a glimpse of what might be going on in that thick skull of his.

Being around Harry was fascinating and bizarre sometimes: Draco had grown up with two faces, he understood about nuances and politics and dark intentions, but there was nothing dark about Harry. Draco's mother had always taught him that _good_ men had no need to conceal themselves, and even at a young age he worked out what that made his father and his associates - he knew what he was being raised to be. He had this naïve sense in his very core that if he ever escaped that life he would be unconstrained, he would leave his heart open, and that's how he would know that _he_ was a good man. But Harry was twisting all of it, and while sometimes his old conceptions seemed to be holding true, more and more often he felt like everything he'd ever believed about right and wrong was a fairytale.

For his part, Harry was oblivious to the effect he had. His stomach was tearing and stretching itself into a knot. Ten years? The question was as inconceivable as the answer. He inwardly growled, wondering why the universe thought it had a right to grapple at him in a rare moment of peace. He didn't blame Draco - in fact he _refused_ to - because that would mean getting into an argument with the one person who indulged him, who harboured him from the world and let him laugh and untie himself. And even if Harry knew it was wrong to want to slack off from his duty, in this room Draco was judge, and Draco could absolve him.

"Where do _you_ think you'll be?" he deflected in the end.

Draco rolled his eyes at him and smooshed his face into his waiting hands, knowing not to press the issue, "Me? I'll be some high powered suit wearing type. You'll be my lowly minion."

"Is that right?"

Draco rolled over onto his back, "'Fraid so."

Harry snorted and nudged him in the side with his foot.

Draco stretched out, hands clasped over his head, the veins in his arms popping and pulsing in a solid rhythm. He groaned, "I need to get out of this castle."

Harry felt his heart twist at the thought, "What, _leave_?"

"Fuck no! Just for a bit of breathing space. I need a night on the town or something."

"You missing your jaunts around Europe already?"

"They were hardly jaunts."

"Sorry, forgot about the paper cut."

"There I was... wounded and alone..." Draco swooned for a moment. "But seriously, come out with me? Not far, just to Hogsmeade maybe..?"

Harry tensed, "Like on a date?"

"I wish!" Draco scoffed, mostly to hide the fact that if he thought he could get away with it, that's exactly what he'd be asking. "Call it a change of scenery. We spend all of our time in this room, and while I'm flattered that you've made my quarters your personal sanctuary, you should get some fresh air. You look like shit, Potter."

Harry thumped his leg, "Thanks! Dick. Can't though - training."

"Thought that was at two?"

Harry sagged, "Two till ten."

Draco chewed his lip and cast Harry a sidelong glance. "You need your head looked at," he murmured.

Harry just shrugged and traced the stitching on the bedspread with his fingers. "I shouldn't even be here now—Hermione wanted to talk to me about some books."

Draco frowned and gave him a little shove, "Well do me a favor and take your books out into the sun will you?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Oi, watch it!" Draco chastised. "Pasty-faced eejit," he added in a grumble.

"Do you want to join us?"

"Nah, I've some business to take care of at the bottom of the lake."

Harry scrunched up his face, "What?"

Draco's eyes took on that glint that told Harry quite plainly he was up to something he shouldn't be.

* * *

Hermione shielded her eyes from the sun and looked out over the lake.

"Is that _Draco_?" she asked of the figure being pelted into the air by one of the giant squid's tentacles.

"_Waahahahoo!__"_

"What the hell is he doing?"

Harry picked at the grass and shrugged, "Having fun by the sounds of it."

"He'll get himself killed."

Harry gazed out across the water and sought Draco out, he was swimming toward the centre now in confident strokes.

Hermione sighed and went back to her book.

"Did you know he speaks Mermish?"

"Can't say I did," Hermione drawled, disinterested.

"He reckons they're hiding something down there."

"Oh? Like what?"

"He's not sure, just thinks it's important somehow."

"And he didn't bring this up in the briefing this morning because..?"

Harry shrugged a second time, "You know him, he doesn't work that way."

"Actually I don't," Hermione clipped.

"Don't what?"

"Know him. Frankly I don't want to. He's a spoiled, reckless, brat, who refuses to follow the rules and somehow slips through everything unscathed!"

"I know, it's obnoxious isn't it?" Harry laughed. Draco had ducked down beneath the surface, his feet kicked toward the sky for a brief moment before disappearing under too. Harry scanned the surface, wondering where he would reappear and why Hermione was still talking.

* * *

Draco's whole body relaxed into a languid curl as he circled down into the heart of the lake. The water flowing past him grew thicker in his gills but he wasn't concerned by that. The Merfolk, now _they _concerned him - their acceptance of him stretched about as far as not actively jabbing him with their pitchforks; Draco kept his wits sharp and his eyes fast.

He spotted a sliver of something on the lake bed, a light of some kind: faint, blood red and beating in time with the current. He reached for it and his fingers were smacked back by an angry merman. One of the merman's eyes was gnarled shut but that just made the him look all the more menacing. He stared at Draco and Draco stared right back without so much as a blink. He was rather proud of himself actually.

After some time the merman snorted and veered past him, casting a look over his shoulder that said, "Have it your way then."

Draco dug around in the silt and pulled his prize free. It was heavy and metallic; a coin, like a shining red galleon with markings Draco didn't recognise or understand.

He realised then that his skin had started to burn with the cold and was grateful that he could head for land. Before he could act, his shoulder wrenched around of its own accord, his knee jerked back and his eyes snapped shut.

* * *

_Sweat dripped down over Draco__'__s face, or was it rain? He__'__d lost track hours ago. Shaking and exhausted he looked around at the garden that he had carved into the hillside. It thrummed with magic and life of every colour._

_He wiped his dirt stained hands on his robes and picked up his wand, __"__Expecto Patronum,__" __he whispered._

_A unicorn of pure light launched forth and cantered around him._

_"This is your new home," he told it._

_He knelt to trace his fingers over the letters etched into the marble coverstone at his feet._

_"Keep her safe for me."_

* * *

_Draco exhaled a long breath and steadied himself on the alter. He could go on, he __would__ go on._

"_He was a man who worked hard for what he had, he expected the same from those close to him. He was our pillar, our judge and our compass. He saw worth in me that I didn__'__t know I had. He taught me how to be strong and how to accept kindness; he also taught me that the two aren__'__t mutually exclusive.__" __Draco smiled to himself at that._

"_We didn__'__t always see eye to eye, he was a hard man to please sometimes.__" __Draco saw some of the congregation nod in fond agreement.__ "__But he always made sure that I knew he was proud of the things I had achieved, and I achieved those things because he was proud._

_"He was my dad... and I will always be his son.__"_

* * *

_Three mounds of mismatched duvet sat huddled next to each other in a row, each with nothing more than a face peering out from the top. Their breath puffed up in clouds to remind them of the cold._

"_Who__'__s on tea duty?__" __Draco asked._

"_Richard,__" __the girl mound answered._

"_Is it? Fuck, I went last time.__"_

"_Well I__'__m not going,__" __Draco said._

"_Fine, we__'__ll just be tealess,__" __Richard answered._

"_I give it five minutes __'__till you crack.__"_

"_Challenge accepted.__"_

_After a while the girl mound started to sing to herself and shuffle about as though dancing. The boys looked at each other and shook their heads, bemused._

"_Hey, Richard?__"_

"_Yeah?__"_

_Draco felt a warm glow settle over him, "__I love our family.__"_

"_Hey, Draco?__" Richard rocked his duvet mound sideways to give him a cushioned little shove._

"_Yeah?__"_

"_You__'__re completely mental."_

* * *

Draco awoke vaguely aware that half of his face was packed in something soggy. His eyelashes tried to stick together as he opened them and he realised then that he had washed up on the lake shore. He choked up a lungful of brackish water and pulled himself to his feet. An awful shrieking turned his head; the merman with the deformed eye had surfaced and beckoned him with a knarled index finger.

_"Your power," _he pointed at the strange red galleon still in Draco's hand.

_"What?"_

_"Those with courage find their strength in the deep, shown the power their hearts will keep."_

Draco dropped to his knees and his mind choked with fog as he tried to make sense of the words and his visions. The merman was long gone by the time he gave up, thrust the coin into his pocket, and took off for the castle at a sprint to find Harry.

* * *

As Draco approached the vaulted castle doors Remus and Professor Slughorn stepped out to bar his way.

"Hi," Draco grinned, bending double to catch his breath. "Merlin when did I get so unfit!?"

Remus and Slughorn shared an uneasy glance.

"What's up with you two? You look like- Oh fuck, has something happened?"

"Yes, it has. It's Harry-"

Draco's bones rattled, eyes flitting between and behind them, "Where?"

"Draco-"

"Tell me where the fuck he is! What's happened?" Draco demanded. "Oh fuck it, I'll find him myself!"

He made to pass them but Slughorn pointed his wand at his chest, "We can't let you do that."

"What? Get to f-"

"Dumbledore asked us to fetch you to his office," Remus told him gently.

Prevented from action all the blood drained to Draco's feet, leaving him with the feeling that they were made of lead. He swallowed to try to moisten his throat, "Is he- Is he-"

Cogs quite visibly started to whirr in Remus' head, "Draco he's not dead! Sorry - we're all a bit shaken up, I should have said that first."

"Yes, you fucking should have!"

"Mind your tongue, Mr. Malfoy!"

Draco ignored Slughorn and focused on Remus, "He's okay?"

"No," Slughorn interjected, "He's in the hospital wing, and you'll be going to Dumbledore to explain yourself!"

"Explain myself?" Draco felt oddly like he was back underwater. "You think I hurt Harry?"

He looked so wounded that Remus' heart ached for him.

"It's irrelevant what we think, Dumbledore will have his reasons," Slughorn took Draco by the shoulder and hustled him up the steps.

"Remus, how could you think that?"

"I don't, I've told Albus that and I'll keep telling him until he listens, whatever's going on we'll get to the bottom of it."

Draco nodded absently and allowed himself to be shuffled along.

"Will he be okay?" he asked just as they approached the headmaster's office.

"I honestly don't know, Draco, I don't know what's happened, only that he collapsed in training. Nobody's been allowed in to visit him."

"But I've been down at the lake, how could I-"

"I don't know, Draco. But I've never seen Albus this angry."

Slughorn tutted his disapproval and frogmarched him onto the revolving platform. He and Remus were both dismissed as soon as Draco was safely deposited, and Remus had been right: Dumbledore looked livid.

* * *

"Sit, Mr. Malfoy."

"Professor, whatever you think I've done-"

"I said_ sit down._"

Draco tensed himself into the nearest chair, flattening his hand on his knee to stop it from shaking.

"Can I see him?"

"No. You will stay here until I'm satisfied I have the truth from you."

"What do you want to know?"

"Exactly what is the nature of your relationship with Harry?"

"We're friends."

"I'm not in the mood for lies."

"I'm not lying!"

"You're not making this any easier on yourself."

"What difference does it make? I haven't done anything to him!"

"I'll be the one to decide that I think. Now tell me the truth!"

Draco felt the urge to start throwing the man's stupid trinkets as hard as he could in every direction.

"I've done nothing but try to help him since I got here," he ground out. "If he's collapsed it's because he's exhausted, not because I've put a fucking hex on him! He's working himself into fucking oblivion because you've got him thinking that the entire war effort rests on his shoulders!"

"I'm not the one on trial here, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore hissed.

"And_ I_ am!?"

"Our best hope of winning this war is lying in a hospital bed haemorrhaging blood and hanging onto his mental faculties' by a thread, so yes, Mr. Malfoy, you are! Don't paint me into the villain of this piece! I didn't want this life for him, nor did I push him into it. Harry understands the sacrifices of war, he wants to fight, he wants to save lives, just as we all do. Distractions will only get him killed, and despite what you may think, Draco, I want him to get out of this war alive."

"Well he doesn't!"

In all the weeks he'd been back on British soil, Draco still hadn't quite decided for himself how true this statement was. He prayed it wasn't, but in the heat of the argument it seemed like the right mud to fling.

Dumbledore hung his head and steadied himself.

"You may be right."

Draco bore his eyes into the floor, fantasising that he could tunnel his way out and escape to find Harry.

"Are you and Harry in a relationship?"

"We might be if he weren't so terrified of being happy -" Draco snapped, "- Sorry, I meant to say _'distracted'_."

Dumbledore sighed, "Are you sleeping together?"

Draco's insides boiled up with embarrassed rage, "No."

"Look at me."

Draco brought his eyes up defiantly to meet the old man's piercing gaze.

"But you did?"

"Once. Months ago. Can I see him now,_ Sir_?" Draco ground out.

"No. The hospital wing is closed to all visitors until Harry is in a fit state to receive them. And even then, I am specifically ordering you to stay away from him."

"For how long?"

"Until the war is won."

"How exactly do you expect me to do that? We're on the same fucking side!"

"I suggest you figure it out, now go."

"That's it? That's all you wanted - to pry into his private life? What, did you sense that for a few brief moments he might have stopped putting everyone else ahead of himself and feel an inconsolable need to stamp on it?"

"Don't test me, Draco!"

In that moment Dumbledore seemed to age a hundred years, Draco stalked out of the office rather than push his luck any further.

* * *

**A/N:** So how are we all so far? Still with me?


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** First of all, I don't own the characters or any of the canon details, those are the wonderful Ms Rowling's. Secondly, sorry Ms Rowling for corrupting your boys in this way.

**Pairings:** HPDM

**Warnings:** Slash, obviously. Swearing, sex, etc etc. Rated for a bloody good reason - do not read this if you are under the age of consent in your country. This story deals with miscarriage which may be distressful for some readers (I know from my point of view that it was distressful to write).

**Beta:** Aima D. Duragon.

* * *

Draco's head raved and reeled him through the castle and took none of it in; splinters of rhetoric clattered around his brain and manifested themselves pointlessly across his face, clinging to an argument left behind and lost. Snape looked down at him when he arrived.

"Have you seen him?"

The Potions Master stepped aside before he was pushed and closed the door behind them.

"Well? If someone were bleeding to death on my watch I'd call the man with the ruddy great vat of blood replenishing potion or am I missing something?"

"That's really Slughorn's job now," Snape said, sidestepping the real issue.

"Oh don't even get me started on fucking Slughorn."

Snape suppressed his distaste at the foul language. "Draco, sit-"

"Don't fucking tell me to sit down, just tell me what's going on!"

"I will once you sit."

"... fucking Dumbledore and his idiotic questions about us… fucking business is it of his?"

Snape himself sat and began to rub his temples. "Did you sleep with Harry last summer? Late summer…"

Draco's rant caught in his throat and his head swivelled as if on a rail, "How did you know that? Did he tell you or did you go poking around in his head?" he accused, "You know, he's entitled to some fucking privacy, Severus! What _is it_ with you people?"

"Were you careful?"

"What do you mean _'was I careful?'_ Did he say I hurt him? Is that why everyone's treating me like the next dark lord rising? Because if he did then someone's twisted his head," Draco insisted. "We're _friends_, he wouldn't lie about something like that. He wouldn't even if we _weren't_ friends. I mean-"

"Draco, stop!" Snape rattled out a sigh. "That's not what I meant."

Draco squinted at him, "I don't understand."

"Were you _careful?_ Did you use..."

"Urg," Draco shuddered, "I'm not having this conversation with you, for fucks sake will you just tell me how he is!"

Snape chose his words very carefully. "He'll recover, he's strong and he's in good hands, but it will take time."

"Right, okay," Draco flipped into action mode. "So I need Harry's cloak, and probably his map, which means I need to get into that bloody tower... stupid prat should have moved out of the dorms like a sane person... "

"Draco, I really must insist you sit down and pay attention."

"I don't have time-"

"Make the bloody time you ignorant little scroat!" Snape barked at him. "Now, were you careful?"

"Severus, I didn't _give_ him anything, okay? There hasn't been anyone else, so whatever you think he's got... Oh for fucks sake! You don't even know what's wrong with him then, do you? How can you tell me he'll be fine when you don't even know what's fucking wrong with him!? If none of you idiots can take proper care of him then I-"

"DRACO! SIT DOWN! You know very well how competent I am, I know precisely what is wrong with Harry and if you shut up for long enough I will tell you!"

"GET TO THE FUCKING POINT THEN!"

Snape faltered in the vacuum that followed.

Draco sat down next to him and put his hands in his lap, "Severus, you're scaring me," he whispered, "We'll put everything right again, I promise. If I can get to Harry everything will be okay, it'll all make sense - I know it, I don't know how, I just do."

"Harry had a miscarriage."

The words hovered in front of Draco and he couldn't bring them in or send them back, all the pieces in his head started to whir in the other direction and got ruined in the process.

"Say something else."

"Draco..."

"Anything else, anything else..."

* * *

Draco wasn't aware of his screams until long after they had stopped and he realised his lungs were scratched raw. White flesh tinged red came away from under his nails; he saw the gouges running down his old Professor's neck and didn't have enough of himself left to feel ashamed. Instead he sat in the quiet and drank cup after cup of sweet tea until it started to fizz inside him like salt on a fire.

"He didn't know?" Draco hated that it came out like a question.

"I don't think so, he's not talking much."

"He didn't know," Draco said more firmly.

"I believe you."

"I want to see him."

"Okay."

Draco couldn't feel grateful for Snape's lack of argument, to him there was no question that this was what should be done. When they reached the hospital wing he didn't even register Madame Pomfrey's protests but instead stepped around them and let Snape take care of that too. He couldn't care less what they said to each other so long as they stayed by the door and away from him.

Harry lay curled around himself under a thin white sheet; Draco wondered how he wasn't frozen solid and why Pomfrey had allowed it. He frowned and brushed the hair away from Harry's eyes, startled to find them glasslike and tilted toward the pillow.

"Hey," he said gently.

"Hey," Harry croaked back.

"How do you feel?"

Harry's mouth worked around a lack of words. He freed his hand with a wince and grasped his fingers in the direction of Draco's. Hot new tears poured from some waiting reservoir, though he could have sworn he'd drained the last of them; he felt the hollowness of his bones and it ached like nothing he'd ever known. Draco was whispering things in his ear but he couldn't process it, he just let them pass over him and soothe what places they could.

"I can't breathe, I think I've forgotten how..."

Draco carefully widened the bed and lay down alongside him, "Watch me, okay? In, out."

"Don't leave me alone."

Draco pulled the sheet over himself and drew closer, "I won't."

* * *

Draco woke to the sound of hushed voices from behind the curtains of the furthest cubicle and padded over to investigate. Pulling the curtain aside he found Dumbledore reaching his arms out to Madame Pomfrey who cradled a soft pink blanket to her chest. It took longer than it should have for him to understand.

"What are you doing with her?" Draco hissed, "Don't touch her."

"She needs to be laid to rest my boy."

"I'm not your boy. Your boy grew up, but he's over there in pieces if you have anything remotely helpful to say to him."

"I've already spoken with him - my help to him is taking care of this situation so that he doesn't have to."

Draco glanced back to make sure Harry was still sleeping, "You can't just label this a fucking _'situation'_ and wipe it away you half-baked eejit!"

"I can if it's what's in his best interests."

"Who are you to decide what's in his fucking best interests!?"

"This is what he wants."

"How the hell would you know?"

"I asked him."

Draco felt the revelation slam into his stomach and it stayed there. "Well you didn't ask _me_."

"This is none of your concern."

"She's my daughter!"

"She was never your daughter," Dumbledore said gently, "She was never alive."

"I have a right to know what you intend to do with her."

"I told you, she'll be laid to rest."

"Where?"

"You don't need to know that."

Draco's nostrils flared the way his father's did when one of the house-elves got under his feet.

"You mean no one will. You're going to dump her in some hole in the ground and hope the whole thing gets forgotten."

"I'm not as callow as you seem to have decided, Draco. But it will do nothing but harm if this gets out. If the people think that Harry is weak - in any way, for any reason - they'll start to give up."

"I don't give a shit about the people. My daughter deserves to know that she was loved, in death if nothing else."

"This is why you should have kept him out of this," Dumbledore glared at Pomfrey.

"You have three options," Draco snarled, "You can kill me right now where I stand, you can give her to me so I can bury her properly, or I can go to the Prophet and tell them everything."

"Do you think that will help Harry?"

"This is about her, not him, and you have five seconds to make up your mind."

"Where will you take her?"

"Somewhere unplottable, does that help you?" Draco spat.

"The ministry has all the unplottable locations on file."

"Then I'll create a fucking new one! I was raised by a bloody deatheater, you think I don't know how to do that?"

"I actually didn't," Dumbledore looked completely disturbed by the prospect.

"Well?"

Dumbledore looked between him and the bundle of blankets, "Very well then."

* * *

Left alone behind the curtain and trapped with his consequences Draco stared down at the tiny thing in the centre of it all. He lifted her from the basket that was much too big and settled her in his lap, his mind dredging up all sorts of thoughts that didn't seem appropriate, yet he couldn't shake free of them - like where did the blanket come from, and who had cleaned her face?

He took a deep breath and forced himself to deal with his heart. It surprised him when no tears fell; he gazed down at her in confusion, questioning the good of his soul, if maybe there'd been none there at all. And slowly it came, magic creeping down over his skin and hers, iridescent and right where it should be.

"There you are. Carina," Draco whispered, suddenly remembering the letters etched into the marble in his vision, "I'm going to make you a place so beautiful you'll never want to leave it, and you're going to be safe there. And I'll never be far, I promise."

Draco knew he should check on Harry, but leaving had never been harder. He did though, eventually. Harry didn't see him, he looked right through as if to count the jars on the shelf behind.

"You left," he stated.

"I was with her."

"Her…" Harry repeated. "Her…"

"They didn't tell you that?"

"I told them not to."

"Oh."

Draco struggled to accept this last swerve the night had pulled him through.

"I'm going to take her up into the hills. Do you want to say goodbye?"

"Let Dumbledore deal with that. Stay with me. We can wake up tomorrow like we woke up today and everything will be okay, nothing will have changed."

"Harry…"

"Please just don't go... I need you here, okay? I didn't think I did but I do. Just for a little while, just until I can stand it again. You don't have to stay forever, just for a little while. Please…"

"I have to do this before he changes his mind. I'll be back before dawn..."

"Please just leave it alone, you don't have to go. It was a mistake what we did, but we can make it alright again. We can make it go away and be us again, and then it'll be okay, wont it?"

"Harry, you're exhausted. Close your eyes; Open them at dawn and I'll be next to you, okay?"

Harry's eyelashes fluttered home as Draco kissed his cheek farewell.

* * *

The frozen mountainside had been desolate and unforgiving when he'd arrived but he'd worked to the blueprint in his head, glad to escape himself for an hour - hours? He'd lost track somewhere amongst the sweat and rain.

The sky was heavy with magic, and every colour seemed to thread through the ground: up into the trees and around the leaves: a perfect bubble of life in the most isolated place he could find. Around it he'd cast every shield and deterrent he could muster.

He conjured up his patronus - a Unicorn of bright white light he'd named Mississippi when he was a boy, just because he liked the feel of the word in his mouth.

"This is your new home," he told it.

The cool marble beneath his fingers read 'Carina Io Malfoy', and he knew it was right for her.

"Keep her safe for me girl."

* * *

Draco's boots sluiced rain through a few choice breaks in the leather; his wrecked head clung to the lights outlining the castle on the horizon and the promise of sleep.

Still, he reached the courtyard and shied from the door. No Remus to greet him, just cold sky slamming into his upturned face.

"Why couldn't you just leave it alone?"

Draco whipped in the direction of Harry's voice and found him sitting at the foot of a broken gargoyle.

"What are you doing out here? You'll catch your death."

Harry waited to see if Draco would try to smooth over his words but he just made a self-berating sort of gesture and it didn't seem like enough to hold against him.

"Come inside, its freezing."

"I want to stay out here."

"I'll carry you if I have to."

Harry scoffed and Draco knew they were on the edge of something ugly.

"Same old spoilt, self-centred brat you always were."

Draco closed his eyes.

"What, you're not going to disagree?"

"I know what you're trying to do."

"You know everything don't you? You know what's better for me than I do. What I want never comes into it."

"...I'm sorry you feel that way... I never meant-"

"I never wanted to be your friend, but you just- you were _always _there. You sunk your claws into Ron, and Remus, even Molly and Arthur - running around pulling horcruxes out of nowhere and handing out miracle potions, I couldn't even get away from you in my own head!"

Harry's fists were balled so tightly it was a wonder there wasn't blood dripping from them.

"I didn't want to love you. I have more to _do _than that, I told you that so many times and you said you heard it but you didn't. You stand there, and you look at me, and what I want stops making sense and it's your fault - don't try to make out like it's not on purpose, you're not that dense," Harry accused. "I had one choice left to make and you took it away, just like you take everything that's mine and make it yours, and now I can't stand what's left of me because it's nothing when you're not there and even less when you are. You've ruined me, are you happy?"

Draco swallowed to loosen the choke hold around his throat. "Come inside," he said plainly.

"That's all you have to say?"

"For now."

"Did you even listen or did you take that away from me too?"

"I can't speak for you - obviously - but I don't need this right now. I need sleep and dry clothes."

"Well maybe I need this!"

"You can scream at me perfectly well inside the castle, I'll even put up wards."

"Are you trying to be funny?"

"No," Draco took a soothing breath. "I'm just trying to be practical."

Harry shoved him hard in the shoulder. "Well fucking stop it!"

"Don't hit me."

A harder shove answered him.

"Stop it."

"Why should I!?"

"Because you're hurting me."

"So stand up for yourself!"

"I'm not about to fight you, Harry—you're in no fit state for one thing."

Harry fell into him with his fists, "Don't. Fucking. Patronise. Me!"

Draco pushed him away; Harry careened into the gargoyle and a jut of stone caught him in the back. He bent double and gasped for air.

"I didn't- I'm sorry. Come on, I'll take you back to the hospital wing."

"I don't want anything from you! Just leave me the fuck alone!"

Draco clenched his teeth, turned on his heel and took two steps toward the courtyard steps. Harry watched him with a kind of morbid curiosity, he realised then that the last thing he wanted was for Draco to go, not that he'd say that. He'd given himself up to despair when all of a sudden Draco veered back towards him. Harry's heart jerked back up sharply, then raced when Draco made to hook his arms underneath him.

"What are you playing at!" Harry made himself demand, "Get off!"

"Well get up then!"

Harry successfully fought down the stupid urge to smile that was filling up his chest, "No! Fuck you!"

But with the ice in his bones and the blizzard spiralling out of control in his head, Draco didn't understand the complicated dance they were doing, or see it for what it was.

"Grow up, Harry!" he spat, "You're acting like a fucking child! You're not the only one in pain here! She was my daughter too."

The hope went out of Harry just as suddenly as it had reappeared. It was just as well, he thought. He narrowed his eyes and slowly got to his feet, turning to leave. "Don't ever talk about her again."

Draco grabbed Harry's arm, spun him back around, and threw the galleon from the lake at his feet; Harry's eyebrows ducked as he struggled to make sense of the gleaming red thing now half-sunk into the mud.

"It shows you the people who'll make you strong," Draco ground out. "And I understand now why I didn't see you."

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, so, *breathes*

This is the chapter that inspired me to start writing this story 10 years ago, but it's also the chapter I could never put on paper until very recently, and believe me when I say that it honestly broke me to do it. It was worth it though, I think anyway.

...does anyone have a tissue?


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** First of all, I don't own the characters or any of the canon details, those are the wonderful Ms Rowling's. Secondly, sorry Ms Rowling for corrupting your boys in this way.

**Pairings:** HPDM

**Warnings:** Slash, obviously. Swearing, sex, etc etc. Rated for a bloody good reason - do not read this if you are under the age of consent in your country.

**Beta:** Aima D. Duragon.

* * *

"No, I want Dawlish."

Draco rolled his eyes. Order meetings had become even more pointless since Harry had decided he was incompetent - and these days no one argued with the all mighty chosen one. He'd reinvented himself as the embodiment of his publicity: fierce, resolute, and unapologetic. People had fallen in line so quickly they might have been imperioused.

Draco supposed it made them feel more secure, like this must mean they were nearing the end of it all, like if they put their heads down and did as they were told then Harry would have it all sorted in time for supper.

Shacklebolt hectically scratched this amendment onto the parchment in front of him and then studied it a while longer, "Fine, Draco you'll be with me then."

"No."

Draco addressed Harry directly, "Would you like me to stay here and knit you a new tea cosy?" he asked sweetly.

That was it, the only thing he had left to give Harry: to take all the pieces of him that cared about any of it and swallow them down out of his sight. He'd apologised in every other way he could think of. He'd poured his heart out onto parchment, he'd gotten down on his knees and begged, seized every possible gesture of goodwill, taken every opportunity to demonstrate his worth, and it'd all meant nothing.

"Don't get smart with me. You'll head a team in the second wave."

Draco clucked his tongue, "I could probably knit you a tea cosy from there for all the action I'll see."

Harry ignored him and Shacklebolt made more scribbles on his parchment.

Remus watched them with a heavy heart, neither of them would tell him what had happened, and he hadn't pushed, but he could see how much they were both hurting. He leaned over and whispered in Draco's ear, "Chin up, whatever it is, he'll come round eventually."

Draco made a face that said _'Don't count on it' _before he noticed Harry scowling at them and turned his concentration back to the upcoming battle.

* * *

"So what the hell is going on with you and Harry?"

Draco's remaining bishop crumbled under an assault from one of Ron's knights and he winced.

"He's angry with me, for reasons I'm not going to get into. Some of them are probably justified though."

"Should I be doing the best mate bit then? I could flush your head down one of the loos?"

Draco wanted to be good-natured but to make light of the whole thing repulsed him, so he just said "Don't."

Ron studied him with a little pity.

"Don't do that either."

Ron shook his head and prodded one of his pawns. "You there, look out!" It gave a squawk and hopped forward out of the way of Draco's rook.

"Damn you," Draco groaned.

Harry climbed through the portrait hole and flung a few choice insults over his shoulder to the fat lady.

"Geeze mate, what did she do to deserve that?" Ron asked him.

Harry almost replied but got distracted by Draco.

"What're _you_ doing in here?"

Draco shot Ron an apologetic look. "And on that note... Thanks for the thrashing, I never liked my dignity anyway," he said.

Ron frowned. "Harry, come on."

"What?"

"You're being a _dick_."

Harry's eyes hardened, "Shove it."

"What is _wrong _with you these days?"

"Ron..." Draco warned out of the corner of his mouth.

Harry ground his teeth, he scowled at Draco and then back at Ron, "Oh do whatever the fuck you want, just stay out of my face."

Both Ron and Draco flinched when the door upstairs slammed behind Harry.

"Is it just me or is he having a seriously misplaced bought of teenage angst?"

Draco slumped, "I'll talk to him."

"Don't bother, if he wants to act like a child-"

"Hey!" Draco snapped and instantly wished he could cover it back up because it was just too close to home, and the last thing Harry would want was for his business to be scattered all over the castle. "Sorry, look, just... he's dealing with a lot right now. It's not his fault."

Ron frowned, "You'd think he was the first guy to get chucked."

"What?"

"Isn't that what this is all about?"

Draco shook his head slowly, at a loss for what else to do, "Just… don't give up on him, okay? He needs his friends right now."

"He's got a funny way of showing it."

"Well..." Draco glanced hesitantly up the staircase, "I'll see what I can do about that."

* * *

Draco made it successfully through the dormitory door - that was something at least.

"Get the fuck out."

"I will." Draco glanced around the room. Harry prowled by the window, ready to strike. Finally Draco opted to just lean back against the door rather than risk taking a seat.

Harry glowered, "Just spout your latest pile of sap and leave."

"I'm not here to stoke up your ego Harry, I'm here to tell you to stop treating you friends like crap."

Harry crossed the room in two strides and came within inches of his face. "How I treat my friends is none of your damn business," he hissed.

"If you really want to win this war, you need them. All of them," Draco replied, holding his ground.

"And what about _you_?"

Draco had to fight hard not to let the ice sliding through him shake his resolve. "Point me where you want me," he said evenly, deliberately echoing himself from a conversation that seemed more like years than weeks ago.

Harry slammed his hand off the door beside Draco's head and latched the other around the back of his neck. He ground their lips together until he found in them what was lacking. For the barest moment it was soft and hungry, until Harry thumped the door again and ripped them apart.

"Damn it Draco!"

Draco steadied himself, stumbling somewhere between righteous anger and hope. "I'm not a toy," he said quietly.

Harry drew back and gave him space. He wrapped his arms around himself and cast his eyes down. "I know you're not."

Draco wanted to stay and melt into the murmured excuse for an apology - he was pretty sure he could make it enough - but instead he pulled himself up tall and turned away: out the door, down the stairs, straight past Ron and his questions.

Once in the corridor he started to run, he had no idea where to until he found himself crouched on the floor of some damp passageway he hadn't used since he was fifteen and probably up to no good. He smacked his head back against the wall and it was like flicking a switch; tears forced their way out in droves, he stifled the sound of the sobs with his fist.

* * *

Draco shouldn't have made the crack about the tea cosies, the universe had reacted violently. Probably it had some issue with knitting, or sheep, or maybe even tea itself.

It had started predictably enough: He and his team stood on the left flank of the battlefield and watched the flashes of red and green light off in the distance like proper little second rate soldiers, protecting the battle from enemy reinforcements that in all probability would come from the other side.

Draco blew into his hands and pulled his robes tighter around himself, trying not to think about the fact that his friends were out there and he was useless to them as a spectator. To make matters worse, every time he heard a cry ring out he pictured Harry or Ron or Remus crumpling under the weight of some gruesome curse. His father - in an effort to _prepare_ him - had made him study the worst spells dark magic could offer, right down to the expressions of their victims. It may have just been words and drawings but it was doing a damn good job of fuelling his imagination tonight.

He shook his tired muscles and absently began to sing in a soft whisper: _"__Si ton coeur bat aussi fort, que le tambour dans le lointain, c'est que l'espoir existe encore pour le genre humain__…"_

Seamus ogled him as if he'd lost his mind; Draco looked around at the rest of his team expectantly. "No culture," he huffed in the end and resumed his vigil of the battle.

An hour later it happened, just as the lights had started to die down and it looked like they'd come through it all victorious. The first clue had been an ear-splitting crack about ten meters into the tree line behind them. Eight wands snapped round to face it and eight men stood in absolute silence, waiting for another sign and hoping it was mere paranoia they were fighting.

Seconds became minutes. Draco was sure he'd seen a set of eyes gleaming in the darkness, but when he shot off a full-body-bind curse on reflex it whistled through the trees without finding a target. Instead the light from it taunted them with the briefest glimpse of all kinds of suspicious shadows.

Then another crack came, and another, and another, until Draco lost count of them and curses were flying everywhere. They managed to keep formation to begin with but then Creevey got drawn off into a hopeless battle with Nott. Draco screamed at them all to '_Stay in fucking line!__'_ but it was no good. He set his mind to firing off as many curses as he could and shielding the others when he saw they were about to be blind-sighted.

The main battle joined up with theirs, Draco found himself in step with Ron and had never felt so relieved.

"Watch out Malfoy, I might start to think you're warm for me!"

Draco narrowly missed a slicing curse to the head, "I'd fuck you on the spot if it would save our necks!"

"How," Ron fired off a stream of spiders at MacNair, "Charming."

"Where's Harry?"

"Dunno, he was right behind me."

Draco didn't dare look back, it would probably be the death of him. He cast whatever came into his head, it didn't matter what so long as it was fast and painful. Luckily he knew a lot of those.

He saw her out of the corner of his eye: his mother, lit up amongst the fireworks. He lapsed for the smallest moment and in the next he was faced with the searing blue flash of an eviscerating curse. Before he could process it a shield appeared from his right.

He didn't have time to be shaken or to figure out where it had come from, instead he redoubled his casting and prayed to whatever gods were out there that they'd all see morning.

"Alright, Captain?" Seamus called over his shoulder.

"Fucking pay attention you big Irish twat!"

Seamus cackled and sent a curse at Greyback who knocked over another two Death Eaters when he fell. Greyback threw a bolt of red lightening back at him but Seamus deflected it easily and shot something just as nasty off in the other direction.

Draco didn't have the luxury of seeing it in slow motion, one minute his mother was alive and the next she was gaping at the stars.

Seamus was still casting but he cocked his head at Draco, silently asking if he was okay. Draco's wand arm lunged just as two hands gripped around it and apparated them away.

* * *

The fury sweating off Harry was palpable, "What the fuck was that!?"

Draco staggered a few paces to his right and latched onto a rickety old fence. Off in the distance he briefly saw the shrieking shack before his stomach began to convulse and empty itself onto the frosted grass.

"Well!?"

His mother was gone. His brain couldn't quite keep up with it, the thought just cycled around and around; his legs started to tremble.

Harry yanked him around by the shoulders.

"Get your head together!"

Draco was limp in his grasp, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

"They'll think you're a fucking spy you idiot!"

The words had no impact. Harry cast a spell to clean him up and warm his hands. He straightened out his robes and wiped his cheeks. Finally Draco blinked, breathed, and almost came back to himself.

"Are you prettying me up for Azkaban, Harry?" he asked without feeling.

"You won't be going there."

Draco felt like he already was.

"I don't understand you," Harry whispered, giving him a desperate sort of half-hearted shake.

"He killed my mother."

"He killed a Death Eater. That's his job. It's all of our jobs."

Draco shoved him away, "She was my _mother_!"

The ground swayed beneath him, he felt like he might throw up again.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and switched tactics. "Why did your father cast that shield charm around you?"

"What?"

Draco, dazed, took a few seconds to remember. "_He_ did that?"

"You didn't know?"

"Of course I fucking didn't know! There were curses flying everywhere, I was too busy trying to make it out alive!"

"It looks suspicious don't you think?"

Draco's jaw set and he planted his foot forward, "Are you accusing me of something?"

"No." Harry closed the gap between them as if to emphasise the point, "No. But you're in deep shit and hexing Seamus' face off wouldn't have done you any favours."

"It was a reflex," Draco growled, "He'd just killed my fucking MOTHER!"

"What did you think would happen if you met each other in battle? That she'd hand you a basket of muffins and ask you about your day? She was a fucking Death Eater!"

"Stop saying that!"

"It's true!"

"I don't fucking care!"

Harry exhaled sharply through his nose. "Why did Lucius stick his neck out for you? You said he hated you."

Draco wanted to make sense of that too but all sorts of other things were sliding about in his head.

He remembered the last conversation he'd had with his mother, she'd given him a journal of her cousin's and told him to join the Order of the Phoenix - quite plainly, like she might have been commenting on his haircut. They'd had a roaring argument about it. In the end though, he'd agreed, he'd wanted so badly to be able to look himself in the eye again.

He remembered the way his parents had always fought about his father's training of him. She had wanted to keep him away from all those horrific things, but he'd bullied her into submission, determined that his son be strong enough to rival him in their never-ending duels.

Something niggled at him then, another memory he couldn't quite surface.

He thought miserably about Carina, more specifically about how at least he'd gotten to say goodbye. There wasn't an ice-chip's chance in the Sahara he'd be able to attend his mother's funeral.

Funeral. _His father__'__s funeral._ The vision he'd had in the lake hit him with force, and his weeks of trying to decipher it seemed laughable now, because the answer was that oh-so-obvious one he'd stubbornly refused to lend any weight to.

It must have shown in his face because Harry asked, _'__What?__'_ and cocked his head to one side.

Draco ignored him. His whole childhood was unravelling like a rope that had been pulled too tight for too long.

"What!?" Harry tried with more insistence.

Draco shrugged him off. "You wouldn't understand," he said dismissively.

"Try me."

"We're family," tumbled out of Draco's mouth, and as soon it had…the duels and the brutal studying regime and the line had father had drawn between them long ago, they all clicked into place.

"And?"

Draco's eyes slipped out of focus, he could practically feel his grandfather's words bellowing through him: "Family matters, Harry. _Blood _matters. There's nothing more important than blood."

Harry stared at him, "You sound like one of _them_."

"Oh please! Voldemort doesn't give a shit about family! If he did he wouldn't rip so many of them apart."

"What, so, your family's just a casualty of the war? No one ever - now let me think - killed, maimed, or tortured any innocent muggles… No one ever set a ruddy great basilisk loose in the school?"

"I'm not defending any of that. You asked why he protected me, I gave you your answer. I told you you wouldn't understand."

Harry's fingers tightened reflexively around his wand and his nostrils flared. "You're right Draco, I know bugger all about being a father, or a son."

"Oh fuck off, Harry! Not everything has to be about you."

Draco started off in the direction of the castle, Harry hurried to catch up but Draco spun to face him,."Unlike you, when I say _'__fuck off__'__, _I mean _'__leave now before I hex your balls halfway up your throat__'__._"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Figure it out," Draco snarled, and left him there looking like he'd been smacked in the face with a brick.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone so far who has reviewed, favourited, or alerted. Sorry for the time delay on this chapter, I hope you liked it! Thank you also to Aima D. Duragon my lovely beta :) And to Jade for putting up with my crazy philosophical ranting these past few weeks.

**Edit:** Sorry, I meant to say this before: points to the person(s) who can correctly identify the string of french up there^^ As it where it's from not as in what it translates to ;)

Xx


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** First of all, I don't own the characters or any of the canon details, those are the wonderful Ms Rowling's. Secondly, sorry Ms Rowling for corrupting your boys in this way.

**Pairings:** HPDM

**Warnings:** Slash, obviously. Swearing, sex, etc etc. Rated for a bloody good reason - do not read this if you are under the age of consent in your country.

**Beta:** Aima D. Duragon.

* * *

Draco wrinkled his nose at the long-cold turkey leg sitting in its pool of congealed gravy. Though the uncomfortable shifting of his stomach made him pick it up, putting it near his mouth would be a brand new battle in itself. Thankfully, a timely knock at his door saved him before it came to all that.

Seamus Finnegan stood on the other side looking very much like a scolded child. Draco thought that had the man been wearing a cap he would have pulled it from his head in that moment and clutched it to his chest.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry about yir mam."

Draco frowned. He really didn't know what to do with that. He didn't have the energy to be angry any longer - being miserable had drained him of what little he'd had in the first place. Part of him was tempted just to close the door and go back to bed for the sixth time that day.

He wondered vaguely what had happened out there, beyond this room, to tip the world on its head. Because so far as he was aware, _he_ was the one people were expecting to act all repentant and subservient, not this awkward scrap of a man cluttering up his doorway.

He pursed his lips, "You were doing your job. It's fine."

It really fucking wasn't, but then apparently they both knew that.

"I know, but Harry, he-"

Draco's ears turned sharp, "What about him?"

"Nothing, nothing," Seamus soothed, "I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry. If it were my mam... I can't imagine... No matter who she was..."

"You," Draco jabbed his finger at him, "Have no idea who my mother was." Seamus glanced along the corridor, clearly considering his escape routes.

"I'm really very tired..." Draco said with a dry throat, which was about as close to gracious as he knew he was going to be able to get.

Seconds later, Seamus was gone and Draco retreated back to his pallid dinner plate, this time avoiding the turkey and making do with a limp piece of steamed carrot.

* * *

That night found Draco leaning out over the battlements of the astronomy tower letting the blood rush into his dangling fingertips. It felt as though at any moment his body might spontaneously take over from his mind and hurl itself over. He had to work hard not to fixate on that - something warned him that if he did then it might just happen. He really had no intention of jumping, he'd just felt the need to remind himself that he was still in control of his own life.

"Draco..." Remus said in a soft growl so as not to startle him.

"Mmmm?"

"Get off of there..."

Draco thought about refusing but he knew it would sound petulant. His mother would hate that.

He did as he was told, catching sight of the full moon as he clambered down. He managed to work up a small smile at that. "So it worked then?" he asked.

"Not even a lingering love for raw meat."

"Urg, cheers for the imagery," Draco said, rubbing his stomach. He'd seen Greyback rip apart one too many chunks of bleeding flesh over his grandmother's wedding china.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. At least I've done _some _good while I've been here."

Remus frowned, "You've done a lot."

"Doesn't feel like it."

"Well you have my gratitude. You shouldn't underestimate the others' either."

Draco gave a strange cynical sort of laugh. "You know, those were the last words she said to me."

"Your mother?"

Draco nodded, "Well, not quite. She said _'don't underestimate your father'._ Turns out he saved my life the other night, did you know that?"

"No..."

"I'm surprised it's not top of the gossip columns by now."

"Perhaps no one saw. It was chaos out there, you know that. Maybe no one was paying attention."

"Harry was."

"Yes," Remus folded his arms, "Well he has a vested interest, doesn't he?"

For the first time Draco felt a swell of shame that his actions had most likely landed Harry in a whole heap of shit. He'd put an unstable man out onto the battlefield - it didn't matter that it was a laughable assignment at the time, it had turned out to be crucial. And Harry knew him better than anyone, that's what they'd be saying, even if they didn't know why and even if they'd been at each other's throats for weeks. They'd say Harry should have known he wasn't fit for it, and he'd be having to justify himself to the whole stinking lot of them in turn,

"Don't take that on your shoulders, it's not how I meant it."

Draco curled his arms around himself and his fingers into his hips. "I just lost it..."

"You're human. Most of us can relate to that."

Draco shrugged.

"It's your mother's wake tonight isn't it?" Remus sighed, clasping a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah..."

"I thought maybe you'd want to go?" Remus held up a long shimmering cloak and a battered old piece of parchment.

"Harry's?"

Remus nodded.

Draco carefully took the cloak and the disguised map from Remus' outstretched hands, "How did you get them?"

Remus tried for a small smirk, "I stunned him and kidnapped his glasses."

Draco might have laughed if it hadn't made him feel nauseous.

"I asked," Remus amended.

"What, just like that? Didn't he want to know why?"

Remus gave him a wry smile, "I'm fairly certain he _knew _why, I think he was happier to not have it confirmed though."

Draco shook his head, "I just don't get him sometimes."

"Why?" Remus cocked his head.

"He says one thing and then he does another. It's enough to make your head rattle."

"That's love for you."

Draco looked at him sharply, "It's not love, its guilt. I just hope it's the properly placed kind."

"Now you're the one not making any sense."

Draco decided against saying any more. "Thanks for this." He chewed his lip, "I owe you more than I have to give back right now."

"You've given me enough, remember?" he replied, holding one of his long arms up to the moonlight. "Come here," he said and with only a little hesitation Draco slumped onto his chest, allowing himself to be wrapped up in Remus' weather-beaten robes for a while.

* * *

At the farthest edge of the proud Malfoy estate lay a patch of Devil's Snare so viciously consuming that no landscaping wizard had ever emerged from it alive.

Like all of the accepted curiosities of the estate, the snare had a story, and as a lonely, bored, little boy, Draco had hunted out all of these curiosities and the stories that went with them.

The snare had been cursed upon a once beautiful garden, one of gates and fountains and hidden places. In one such hidden place, a passage spiraled down into the ground, heading east towards the servants quarters beneath the castle. His great great great great... great aunt had played there with her mother as a young girl, it was their place away from the world. So when the mother had died, and the girl had grown, she still found comfort - something she had desperately little of in those times - on its quiet benches.

Her father was a stern figure, a leading politician of the era and cruel with his power; her brothers were little more than shadows of his will. He forbade his daughter from wasting her life away in the garden and sealed the gates with the most vicious magic he could muster. His ambitions struck far higher than the submission of his only daughter though: he also sought to enslave the elf population. He believed that their magic should be harnessed to the benefit of all wizardom.

She secretly rebelled - it was the only way she could stomach the life he'd imposed upon her. She used the servant's passages to visit her garden under cover of darkness, and over time organised a revolt of the many magical creatures of the time. Unfortunately, one of the servants - a plaything of her eldest brother - gave her away. On the night of an important summit meeting, her father broke the dark seals on the gates and alerted the Ministry of Magic, who sent a battalion of Aurors into the garden. All were killed, and in his rage at his daughter's betrayal he ordered the Snare be planted as a stark reminder to his other children - and future generations - of the price of disobedience.

What he didn't know was that beneath the strangling vines, the garden thrived on, lit and breathing by its own source of ancient magic.

Draco stood at the long forgotten back gate under Harry's cloak. This edge of the grounds wasn't warded, no one in recent times had ever managed to make them stick, and frankly it was seen as a redundant exercise. He creaked the gate open and felt warmth rush over him as he stepped inside. As a boy, he'd played in this garden hundreds of times, but as a man, he'd crossed it only once. That was the day he'd left it all behind.

The air smelled charred from the bonfire he knew would be burning elsewhere on the grounds, which only worsened the tightness in his chest. He crept through the garden, trying to remember the way. It almost seemed as though the plants and hedges were directing him, urging him on. He found the passage and settled in for a long trek. As he made his way, fires lit along the roughcast walls to guide him, and some forty-five minutes later he came to a heavy door, thick with cobwebs.

"Ut esse liberum," he said softly to it and it gave a lurch. He pushed it the rest of the way open with brute force.

Inside was a dusty, disused living space - it seemed that the house elves still avoided the old servant's quarters. On the wall hung an empty portrait frame and a map. The map depicted the whole estate, and much like Harry's map of Hogwarts, it displayed the locations of the manor's occupants. He stared at it for a long time, watching the Death Eaters crawling around it like ants. His father, he noted, was holed up in his study, so he supposed that was the place to be.

He climbed the servant's narrow spiral staircase up five flights and wandered the claustrophobic passageways, passing several wooden panels set half a meter up off the ground, until at long last he came to the one he wanted. He pushed it open as softly as he could muster and peered out into the corridor, he couldn't see any movement. He checked the cloak and tightened his grip on his wand. With a deep breath he stepped out and shut the panel door behind him as quickly as he could without causing it to slam.

A few footfalls further and he was standing right outside his father's door.

* * *

Lucius sat at the window, looking out at the pyre burning in the distance. He nursed a heavy-bottomed glass of what Draco assumed was firewhisky in his left hand and rested his head in his right.

"You shouldn't be here," he said without turning around.

Draco pulled off the cloak and ran the cut he'd made in his thumb along the inner doorframe. Safe in the knowledge that the only two people who could break the seal were he and his father, he dragged over another chair and helped himself to a swig of Dutch courage, straight from the crystal decanter that sat on the spindly table between them. It scorched its way down the back of his throat as he picked up his father's gaze and held it.

Lucius clicked his tongue and turned back to the window, Draco followed suit.

"Did you patch things up with Potter?"

Draco flinched in spite of himself, "What?"

"He seemed fairly irate when he hauled you off that battlefield."

Draco settled. He took a folded leaf of parchment from his inner robe pocket and tossed it unceremoniously into his father's lap, much like a self-important barn owl had done to him that very morning.

Lucius shot him a look that probably had something to do with his lack of manners and examined the letter.

_'__Draco Lucius Malfoy,_

_On the authority of the Minister for Magic, I write to inform you that in lieu of trial, and in your absence, a decision has been made regarding your recent attempt to willfully harm a soldier within your command, Mr Seamus Finnegan._

_You are hereby decommissioned from active duty, effective immediately._

_This decision is final and not open to appeal or amendment._

_Regards,_

_Harry James Potter__'_

Lucius pursed his lips and handed it back.

"What about you? Did anyone see you cast that shield?"

"Yaxley."

"And?"

"I killed him."

Draco's blood soured at the complete lack of hesitation in his father's voice.

Lucius narrowed his eyes, "Don't be a child, Draco. I did what I had to."

Draco snatched up the firewhisky and took another long swig. He closed his eyes for a moment and reminded himself that _of course_ his father was still a ruthless bastard, just because he'd stumbled upon another layer to the man that didn't mean that anything had changed, not really. He returned his focus to the burning embers of his mother out in the grounds.

"She loved you dearly," Lucius murmured into his empty glass. For a moment it looked like he might try to prize the bottle out of Draco's hands but he decided against it.

"I know," Draco replied somberly. "Apparently you do too," he added with another swig.

Lucius frowned, "Be careful with that, you'll never make it back out of here if you're intoxicated."

Draco ignored him for a while but eventually set the bottle back down.

"How _did_ you get in here?"

"That would be telling."

Lucius sat back, "Good. I'll just have to alert these parasites to a security breach then."

"Wait 'till I'm gone will you."

Lucius rolled his gaze over as if to say 'obviously' and Draco almost laughed – almost. Something was happening to him though. As he sat unguarded in his father's study - safe, and somehow as an equal - giddy euphoria gripped onto his arms and shook him hard; He felt awake for the first time in weeks.

Lucius took no notice, "Given the amount of wards and sentries, if they haven't found it before now I doubt they ever will… With any luck they'll decide the place unfit and get the fuck out of my house once and for all."

"_Language, _father."

"You've grown rather impertinent these days. You wouldn't have dared speak to me like that when you were a boy."

"When I was a boy I was afraid of you," Draco told him baldly.

Lucius rubbed at his temple with his thumb. "You could have led the Aurors in here any time…" he fished.

"I wouldn't have done that to mum."

"And me?"

Draco sized him up, "Not now."

Lucius shook his head, "You're a sentimental fool."

Draco tossed his head back and let out a bark of laughter, forgetting himself completely.

"You get that from her," Lucius said, yanking him straight back into the heart of it all.

Draco slumped down and considered taking the bottle up again. He reached for it on reflex but stopped himself short of it. "Yeah, I guess I do," he agreed. "I should probably get going."

"Yes," Lucius agreed, watching him gather his things and make for the door with heavy shoulders. "Did you get what you came for?"

Draco paused, "I'm not sure," he rasped out.

"Avalon is a trap," Lucius told him plainly.

"We don't have any pl-"

"You will soon enough. Don't go."

Draco bit his cheek, "I'm decommissioned, remember?"

"Things change. You'll promise me this, it's not a request."

"Alright, Dad."

Lucius shuddered, "Don't call me that, it's abhorrently common."

Silence met him, and Lucius glanced round to find his son gone, the door closed, and the blood cleaned from its frame.

* * *

**A/N:** Cupcakes for everyone who's still with me :) Thank you :) Xx


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